I'll Make Them All Pay; A General's Revenge

chapter 12..

Videl..

Toward evening, the house began to fill again.

The first to arrive was Oliver. He walked in with an easy stride, shoulders relaxed, a rare brightness in his expression that caught my attention immediately. He looked lighter than he had in months, almost carefree.

“You’re home,” I said, rising slightly from where I sat.

He grinned. “Good to be back.”

I studied him for a moment. “You look… happy.”

He shrugged, dropping onto the couch like the weight of the world had finally loosened its grip. “Nothing much. I’ve been watching comedy since yesterday. Thought I deserved a break.”

I smiled faintly. “You hate comedies.”

“Not lately,” he replied, then paused as if remembering something. “Oh. And I just secured a contract with Dixon Enterprises.”

My head snapped up. “Dixon Enterprises?” I repeated, unable to hide my surprise. “That’s one of the biggest companies in Greeneland.”

He nodded, casual but clearly pleased. “Took longer than expected, but it went through.”

I stepped closer and squeezed his shoulder. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I think I’ll rest a bit.”

He headed upstairs, leaving behind a sense of quiet accomplishment that lingered in the room. Not long after, the others arrived, one by one. The house warmed with familiar voices, the clink of shoes against marble, laughter spilling down hallways that had felt empty just hours earlier.

Dinner was served as the sky outside deepened into dusk. We gathered around the dining table, plates full, conversations overlapping. Alexa teased Priscilla. Oliver chimed in with dry remarks. The atmosphere was easy and warm, laughter moving freely around the table.

Then my phone vibrated. Once.

I barely glanced at it at first. Then I did. And everything stopped. My fork hovered midair as I read the message again. And again. I closed my eyes. Opened them. Read it a third time.

The sealed gate at Goma Island has been unlocked.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I typed quickly. You’re sure?

The reply came almost instantly. Yes, General.

The noise around me faded. The laughter, the clinking cutlery, the low hum of conversation. It all slipped into the background.

“Videl?” Alexa’s voice cut through. “You okay?”

I looked up. All four of them were staring at me now, concern written clearly across their faces. “What’s wrong?” she asked gently. “You just went quiet.”

I looked at them. Really looked. These weren’t just my siblings. They were survivors. Victims of Atticus’s cruelty, just like me. Each of them carried scars the world never saw. Each of them had waited, endured, swallowed rage that had nowhere to go.

I drew in a slow breath. “The gate,” I said. “Goma Island.”

Their expressions shifted instantly. Shock first. Then disbelief. Then something colder.

“What about it?” Oliver asked, voice low.

“It’s open,” I said. “The seal is gone.”

Silence crashed down on the table. Priscilla pushed back her chair and stood slowly, her hands braced against the table as if grounding herself. Her jaw tightened. “So,” she murmured, eyes darkening. “It’s finally time.”

Oliver straightened, the earlier ease gone completely. “Then we strike tonight.”

I nodded. “Of course. I won’t let this opportunity slip through my hands.”

I was already reaching for my phone. Jeff answered on the first ring.

“You back in Greeneland?” I asked.

“Yes, General.”

“Good,” I said. “Assemble all Goma warriors. Full gear. The sealed gate at Goma Island has been unlocked. We’re going for it.”

The call ended. I lowered the phone slowly. The Walkers were history. The next chapter had begun. And this time—it was ours.

We didn't finish the meal. Within minutes, the luxury of the dining room was traded for the cold, calculated efficiency of the Vanguard Academy.

We arrived at the gates in a silent convoy. To any outsider, the Academy was a prestigious training ground, but as we drove past the darkened training fields I had visited earlier, the true Vanguard began to wake up. I led my siblings toward the central complex, where a hidden biometric lift bypassed the student dorms and descended fifty feet into the earth.

When the doors hissed open, the "General" was back.

The underground hangar was a cathedral of black steel and blue light. Standing in perfect, bone-chilling formation were a hundred Goma Warriors. These were the elite—men and women who had trained in Greeneland for eight years, living as ghosts, waiting for the energy field over our homeland to flicker.

"General on deck!" Jeff’s voice boomed.

A hundred weapons were brought to chests in a single, thunderous thud. I walked down the center aisle, my heels clicking against the metal floor. My siblings had already changed. Gone were the suits and dresses; they now wore matte-black tactical gear, earpieces glinting, expressions carved from stone.

I stepped onto the command dais and looked at the faces of the warriors.

"For eight years, Goma Island has been a ghost on our maps," I began, my voice amplified by the hangar's acoustics. "A place where the laws of physics were rewritten to keep us out. Atticus thought that by sealing the gates with a composite alloy and an energy field, he could bury the truth of what he did to our parents."

I leaned forward, my hands gripping the edge of the console.

"He was wrong. He spent eight years hiding behind a wall. We spent eight years building an army. He thinks he’s safe because he’s on an island that no plane or boat can reach. But tonight, the gates are open. And the Vanguard is coming to collect."

I turned to Oliver. "Sync the Breaker vehicles. If that energy field so much as twitches, I want you to jam the frequency."

"Already on it," he replied, his fingers flying across the holographic interface.

I looked back at the troops. "We don't go there for glory. We go there for blood. We go there for the home they stole. Tonight, Goma Island returns to its rightful owners."

The hangar erupted, not in a cheer, but in the terrifying, rhythmic clashing of shields and weapons.

"Mount up!" I commanded.

The war had finally moved from the shadows of Greeneland to the shores of Goma.