Norman returned home after the wind had ceased. A thicker snow had formed, and roads began to close to avoid possible accidents as well as traffic jams. The FBI had arranged a good place for him in the upper-class area of the city, but after Norman moved to Philadelphia he wanted something simpler - he didn't want to mingle with the rich people, much less have some kind of fame and look even more arrogant in the eyes of his co-workers. The apartment he found was quiet, simple, and cozy; there were no walls, which gave him some freedom but little privacy if he felt like hiding - the bathroom was the only "safe" place. He opened the door, removing his shoes at the entrance and his coat on the couch in the living room; Norman felt bad for lying about Tripto in front of his boss, he had kept two tubes for himself and the case stayed with them. The addiction was not so easy to give up; he felt frustrated that he had declined the invitation so he decided to drown all his anger with wine accompanied by classical music. "Too bad I don't have my glasses to play some piano" he thought. He picked up a bottle, placing it on the counter and opening it with the corkscrew, drinking it right away without wasting any time, he wanted to get as drunk as possible - of course beer would be faster, but he hated beer;

Suddenly he heard a metallic sound falling on the floor and rolling to a wall. He stood paralyzed for a few seconds and stretched his arm behind his back slowly, picking up the knife that was beside the sink, looking around; there was no shape or presence there besides himself, his gun was inside his jacket on the couch but it would be too risky to walk there quietly - the wooden floor was a little noisy with every step. He turned the handle of the knife until it was firmly in the palm of his hand, keeping it behind his back still holding the wine bottle as a second weapon, sliding his feet over the floor and dragging his waist against the counter until he reached the direction of the pillar, holding his breath as best he could; he heard footsteps coming toward the room which had a partition that provided a bit of privacy. He looked over his left and right shoulder, running to the next pillar and adjusting the knife in his hand; footsteps again being heard from the room into the kitchen. "Shit, they're close...shit, Norman... I'm going to die...the living room, the living room! The living room is at the next pillar, there's time to reach my coat!" the agent looked at the coat and then at the pillar, calculating how fast he had to run, they were probably hiding behind the kitchen island, waiting for him to leave at the wrong moment to attack. His heart began to race like never before; sweat dripping down the back of his neck;

He had no choice.

He had to escape.

Norman let out a breath, the hand that held the knife trembling; the sensations of fear and despair took over him like the day he lost his partner. In fact, the feeling was extremely similar - and frightening.

Breathe, exhale...breathe...exhale...breathe.

GO.

He ran quickly into the room and the person behind the island got up at once, throwing a bottle of olive oil that hit him right in the left side of his face, making him dizzy and fall to his knees on the floor - releasing the knife, which slid to the other side of the room, but the bottle of wine was still in his hand. Blood. Blood dripping on the carpet; "Shit" he thought before he stood up and was thrown over the coffee table, shattering glass across the floor. His jacket fell to the floor with the thud and gun was slightly exposed on the outside of his pocket, giving him an easy opportunity to reach out and grab it before he died right there. He forced his body up, grabbing the bottle of wine near the fireplace and smashing it in the intruder's face as he felt it approaching.

Okay, Norman, that's it;

Now just don't die.

"Agh! " he swung what was left of the bottle in his hands through the air in an attempt to cause some injury, but was punched in the face and felt hands squeezing his neck; when he looked up he saw a hooded person in baggy black clothes - which was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman - he swung his legs as he tried to save oxygen, taking a knee between his legs, making the person fall backwards and Norman moved his head forward giving a headbutt against his nose; the invader covered his face with his hands, grabbing his legs afterwards when he saw him trying to get close to the gun, grabbing his suit and knocking it against the floor; Norman crossed his legs holding the invader by the back and throwing his own body to the right side, throwing him to the floor applying a kick to the chin to buy time - he reached for the gun simultaneously with the aggressor, who in turn pulled out his revolver. Norman was panting and extremely wounded in the face, yet he didn't let the pain distract him from his target, holding his Glock steady as he tried to keep his knees on the ground.

"What are you doing here? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Jayden knew that shouting would cause more tension and consequently get him shot, but he was already tense from the moment he received that message in the restaurant.

The intruder showed his other hand up and slowly lowered it to a tape recorder that was clipped to his left side belt, pressing a button. Suddenly an audio started playing: it was his last interview on a radio program.

"I don't know what the future holds for me, Chris, but I'm going to make sure that more families have their children around, as it should be - No threats, no fear. I can't call myself a hero, God no, but I never want a parent to go through the experience that Ethan Mars went through. I will never let a serial killer strike again."

The audio ended, Norman's hands trembling. The intruder tilted his head to the side, his sunglasses reflecting the light from the window, as if waiting for him to say something.

"L-Look...I-I have no idea why you're here...but if at any time I've said anything inappropriate that may have offended you- I'm sorry. I'm really sorry...just leave me alone...and I just want to keep doing my job and..." Tears formed in his eyes, his gun shaking until he ducked. Norman threw the gun to the ground. "S-See? I-I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt anyone...! Please, I won't tell anyone you were he-"

A burst, a burning growing in his leg.

He took a shot.

Jayden swallowed dryly, opening his mouth slowly to scream but the invader stepped forward and slammed the gun hard into his face, knocking him out instantly.