By Daniel KuhnleyFrankie Thomas was a hitman, but not just any hitman: he was a hitman for Los Niños del Diablo. Los Niños del Diablo ran everything in Burbank from gambling to drug dealing to the movie industry. Nothing happened in Burbank without their approval. Frankie had been working for them for more than twenty years, starting as a runner and working his way up the ranks. He was quick to learn the business and rose to the top as the go-to guy. His record was impeccable and his reputation was never in question. If Frankie was asked to take care of something there was no doubt as to whether or not it would be done. He always did what was asked of him without flinching. Killing was his business and business was great. Well, business was great -- until last night. For the first time in his career, Frankie failed to finish a job. He was supposed to whack Carlos Santiago, a smalltime dealer eating into the profits of Los Niños del Diablo, and, even though he did kill Carlos Santiago, he failed to finish the job. He had allowed a witness to escape -- the ultimate mistake. Word was out on the street that Frankie had gone soft. News of the incident spread through the streets like wildfire, making its way back to Los Niños del Diablo within a matter of hours. Not long after, Johnny Morella, the head of Los Niños del Diablo, contacted Frankie asking him to come meet him for drinks. Frankie, knowing exactly how the business worked, had no question as to why he was asked to come to the club. He knew that the only way he would be leaving the club was in a body bag. He also knew there was nothing he could do but show up anyway. Christina Rodriguez was the broad he had failed to ace. She was also the love of his life, but she never knew. Now, she had become the death of him and she would never know that either. Frankie was going to face the music like a man, but he was not going to go out without a fight. His guns would be blazing right up to his last breath. There was no other way for him to insure the safety of Christina otherwise. Los Niños del Diablo was like a family to him, but he knew they would not turn their attention away from what he did, and so they would have to be brought down. The mere thought of it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was resolved in his decision. Later, at the club, he found himself slowly drowning in a pool of his own blood. He did what he could to slow the bleeding but he had been shot multiple times in the chest, arms and legs. A weak, yet satisfying, smile emerged upon his face as he studied the room. It was a complete and total bloodbath. Bodies draped across the tables and chairs. Not a single soul had been left standing by the time the last shot had been fired. Los Niños del Diablo was dead. Every person in the organization had been wiped from the earth. Frankie knew he would be seeing the devil very soon for the crimes he had committed over the past few decades. It was quite fitting as he saw it, being a member of Los Niños del Diablo, one of the devil's children. On a more positive note, he ensured Christina's safety. That was what mattered to him. He could die a happy man. With his final breath, he prayed God would forgive him and save his soul. He did.
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