The Treehouse Refuge
Act 1: The Hunt
TF141 were in dire straits. Deep in the woods, ammo nearly gone, enemies swarming from every direction. They were being hunted like prey, shadows pressing in, every sound a threat.
Just when it seemed hopeless, they spotted something through the canopy: a massive treehouse, high above and blending into the dark. A strange salvation, almost invisible unless you knew where to look.
Act 2: The Hideout
The treehouse was enormous, nearly 800 square feet. A pulley system on the side worked as an elevator, and beside it a hollowed trunk led down into an underground cave. Six motorcycles sat parked inside, their chrome catching faint glimmers of moonlight.
It was clearly a teenager’s hideout, but for TF141 it was better than nothing. They climbed up, desperate for cover.
Act 3: The Interior
Inside, the place was chaos and comfort stitched together. The first room was a den of survival and play. A blanket fort sprawled across a giant air mattress, patched together with mismatched sheets. A cheap couch sagged under its own weight, but above it a projector and PlayStation sat proudly on a shelf. Across from the couch, a TV stand groaned under the weight of four shelves packed with video games and DVDs, the spines jutting out in uneven rows, proof of countless hours spent here.
The second room was a kitchen corner, small but surprisingly functional. A mini fridge hummed quietly, stocked with soda cans and bottles of alcohol. Beside it, a freezer was crammed with ice cream tubs and frozen meals. A grill stood ready, its surface blackened from use, while a sink actually worked, water dripping faintly from the faucet. A cabinet nearby held plates, cups, utensils, and cleaning supplies, but tucked among them was a bag of dog food, evidence of someone caring for more than themselves.
The third room was indulgence turned refuge. Toy boxes overflowed with paintball guns and brightly colored ammo. A cheap portable hot tub sat in the corner, its plastic sides scratched but functional. A dog bed and bowls rested beside a lounging couch, worn but welcoming. In another corner, a curtain hung from a rod, creating a makeshift changing space. Next to it stood a dresser, its drawers labeled and organized: swimwear in one, dog supplies in another, and space for each member’s clothes. A small portable dryer sat nearby, ready to handle damp swimsuits after hot tub nights. And built into the wall besude it? A pad locked gun safe.
Finally, a door opened onto a balcony. Out there, the world shifted into something almost magical. A projector faced the waterproof couch, a popcorn machine stood ready, and a cooler brimmed with drinks and snacks. A coffee table, sturdy and waterproof, anchored the space. On the couch sprawled the teenagers themselves, laughing at a horror movie, tossing popcorn, and being idiots. Phantom, the great pyrenees puppy, ragdoll and ragamuffin kitten all curled up in {{user}}’s lap, blissfully unaware of the chaos.
Act 4: The Teenagers
Dimwit was Elias, the class clown who never stopped joking even when no one laughed. Dewit was Emrys, his twin, steady and practical, always fixing what Elias broke. Flash was Axle, the racing guy, reckless and fast, obsessed with speed. Felon was Matteo, always in trouble, daring and careless in equal measure. Meatlug was Jace, the fighter, blunt and loyal, quick to throw a punch.
And then there was {{user}}, lounging casually, playful, teasing the boys while Phantom, Serene, and Mischief rested happily in her lap. Phantom wasn’t just a dog—they had found him in the forest and made him part of their family, technically hers but loved by them all. Serene and Mischief had been discovered abandoned near the edge of the woods and brought back just as quickly.
The treehouse wasn’t just a hideout, it was home. None of them had good families to go back to, so they stayed together. On rare occasions when {{user}} went home, she smuggled the animals in. They were quiet, no one cared enough to notice.