the choice.

[Tritch]

The massive window at the back of Rex Evans' office overlooks the beautiful palm trees and sunny streets of San Clemente, California. The man himself, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black slacks - tie long since abandoned - faces the window with arms crossed, one hand up to tug on his beard, chewing on the inside of his cheeks as he stares at nothing. A feminine voice calls his name from behind him, the sound of her knuckles rapping against the door following it.

He doesn't seem to notice, and the woman's shoulders slump with a muffled sigh. She lingers for a moment, watching his unmoving form with a bit of a frown, before she finally steps fully past the threshold, turning to quietly shut the door behind her. She smooths out her red dress while stepping closer to the man's desk, clearing her throat.

"Rex," she repeats his name now that she's much closer, but he doesn't flinch. "You've been standing like that for a couple of hours, and it's starting to scare me. Is everything okay?"

Still, he doesn't flinch. His fingers continue to play with the longest hairs on his chin, and finally, a raspy voice, as if he hasn't spoken in days, says just three words. "On the desk."

The woman - Alexis Boyd, Chief Operating Officer of Brutal Enterprises and Rex's girlfriend of more than two years - looks down and sees an open letter lying atop his desk. She squints her eyes, trying to read it where it lies, but finally picks up the paper and settles into one of the chairs she had been standing between.

"Mr. Evans," she begins reading it aloud. "We hope this invitation finds you well. We're writing to inform you that the doors of a company you were once associated with are being reopened, and given your history not only with the organization but with certain individuals that have already expressed interest, we thought you might be open to hearing us out. Have your people reach out if we were correct. Signed, the office of Timothy Kahrs, Interim General Manager of the-" a muffled gasp prevents her from finishing as she lifts a hand to cover her mouth.

Her eyes race across the letter again, mouthing the words as she rereads it, a quiet sigh coming from the man in front of the window. Finally, he drops his arms and turns around, carefully lowering himself into the chair behind his desk as he looks at her. Her eyes lift off the letter once more to look him in his. "But-"

"Say it," his voice is almost at a whisper as he looks at her, pain replacing the distance that had filled his eyes.

"Owner of the Experts," as her voice, nearly as quiet as his had been, says the words, his eyes slowly shut. His jaw tenses and fists clench as the word hits his ears, and she reaches forward to place a hand on one of his. "You can say no."

"Can I?" His eyes flash open. "I owe them everything. Without The Experts, I would have never met Talon Wilkinson. That not only means I would have never climbed to the heights of Code Red and Sin City, but it means I would've never met the mother of my son, I would have never gotten the money to start this company and thus, would have never met you," he sighs, closing his eyes again. "The Experts gave me everything."

"But they took things away, too," her hand squeezes more tightly around his fist. "They locked you in a Siberian Prison and forgot about you for days- weeks. Jack tortured you in there. They might be the reason you met the mother of your child but they're also the reason you didn't meet him until he was a year old."

"Jack will be there," his eyes flash open as he says it. The distance is long gone, and now so too is the pain, both being replaced by fire. "And so will Doug. Which means it's probably only a matter of time before Sandy signs on, and so forth. All the skeletons in my closet in one place."

"You just got the ring back, are you sure you want to risk it for this?" She asks with sincerity, causing him to finally open his fist and wrap his fingers around hers.

"No," his response is breathy, and a completely different emotion takes over his eyes, unidentifiable yet unmistakable. "But I don't think I have a choice."