The Traitor

My life as a hit-man was exceptionally electrifying. Every month or so, a letter with the phrase "Dear Jason L. Death" would be found at a bin behind my house, in the dark and unnoticeable alley. Before I opened any of the letters, they would greet me with images of my past victims. However, that did not deter me at all. In fact, I grinned gleefully, hoping that my next mission would be even more thrilling.
However, the exhilarating series ended just before the end of Halloween Day - the 1st of November, in 1982.
One gloomy night, I was busy wiping a piece of equipment. It was my favorit…