Owning Vic

**CONTENT WARNING** 

This story will contain several dark and triggering topics that may be very upsetting to some readers, please read at your own risk and stop if it becomes to much, your mental health matters.  Happy reading dome dwellers and stranger than fiction friends - B

The rapid echo of men's dress shoes clicking against a hollow marble floor were the only sounds to rouse Victoria Bura from the punching bag she was currently attempting to destroy, hoping it would take the strange sadness in her chest with it. She tried her best to ignore the growing irritation as her impending visitor’s footsteps stopped. The irritating rhythm of knuckles against the closed door sounded just before her brother's voice buzzed through the thick wood door. “It’s been a week, Vicki. Don't you think it's time to stop sulking?” He tried to shout through the thick wood and even over the music, she could still hear his annoying voice. “I’m not sulking Phil,” she grunted after each powerful thrust of her arm, as she continued to pound away on the stuffed canvas swinging in front of her. 

After a few minutes, the knocking sounded again. “That business partner of dads is waiting downstairs, and you need to be there when we meet with him Vicki. Hurry up and shower. We don’t want him to think you’re an actual pig farmers daughter…and don’t call me Phil, my name is Phillip.” he announced, causing her to grab the swinging bag. She wrapped her arms around it and squeezed it before she decided to pummel her younger brother.

Marching to the door, she flung it open and watched her younger brother shuffle back a few steps as he surveyed the state his sister was in. Phillip Bura was not a muscular or large featured man. His body and clothes were kept well-manicured, not even a hair was out of place as he stared at his sister in what could only be described as prissy disgust.  “Don’t call me Vicki prick.” she growled. Phillip tipped his chin back as he pursed his thin pale lips. “I will not call you Vic. That is a man’s name, and although you insist on looking and acting like a man, dear sister, you lack the equipment and temperament to be one.” Phillip tucked his thumbs under the vest of his expensive suit and squared his very thin shoulders in an act of triumph, his sister only raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk. “And what would you know about being a man, Philly cheese dick?” Vic panted, still out of breath from her vigorous morning workout.

Phillip sucked his tongue against his teeth and rocked back and forth on his heels before crossing his arms. “Look Victoria, the old man left a hefty debt to some of the most powerful organizations we have ever done business with. One of them has come to discuss settlement, so get your ass presentable and meet me downstairs in dad’s office.”  Phillip gave his sister a once over and pinched his face up into a twisted look. “I will never understand why you ruined what could have been a decent body with all that muscle. You look like a dyke.” he barked and as Vic’s ears turned red enough for her to explode, her younger brother spun on his polished heel and click clacked all the way back down the hallway like a fancy half-starved rat in an overcoat.

Vic grunted as she peeled the Velcro straps from her sparring gloves before throwing them into the decent sized gym her father had put into their primary office. He had explained to Phillip that the three largest offices upstairs would be converted into a gym to help keep the guys in shape.  Vic had rolled her eyes when her younger brother followed their father around the construction zone for weeks whining like a child that it wasn’t fair his sister got three offices, and he only had one. Vic shook her head at the memory before shutting off the light and closing the door. Making her way down the hall, she wondered if she would ever see this gym again or if they could even afford to keep the building.

Victoria and Phillip Jr. Bura were the only children of Phillip and Victoria Bura. Their father was the sixth generation Bura to run their family pig farm. He was also the founder of “Bura Brothers Moving and Cleaning Service”. Both were a front for the real family business, the one Phillip refused to get his hands dirty for and the one Vic immersed herself in to escape the idiocy and inevitability of her life as the only daughter of an underground cleaning crew.

Vic took a deep breath as she headed for the shower and rubbed the sore muscles at the peak of her shoulders trying to relieve weeks of building tension. Phillip Sr. had passed away unexpectedly at home. After her brother fussed over an autopsy, it was determined that his heart was just not strong enough for the lifestyle a man his age had been indulging in. Although Vic missed her father and had loved him very much, she always felt somewhat guilty for thinking of him as a simple-minded man who refused to live his life. He was satisfied only walking through the motions; skulking around the sewers of the underworld cleaning up the messes of the most ruthless and powerful people on either side of the moral spectrum.