# 1- A Husky Tells No Tales

Author: Der Doberman
Tags: No-Yiff, Plot Development, Road Rovers, Story Progression, Story Series

 **Chronicles of the World's Heroes**  
  
This is the official start of a series of stories based off of WB's cartoon series Road  
Rovers. I don't claim to own them, at all, but the work that follows is a product of my  
own imagination or something so I do claim to own _that_. Either way, comments and  
constructive criticism are both _very welcome_ and wanted- one of my main goals in  
posting this work of fiction is to receive feedback- preferably helpful (both positive and  
negative highly accepted)- and increase my skills as a writer. That said, I hope you enjoy  
reading The Chronicles of the World's Heroes. It's a rather vague title, I realize, but in  
reality canines are our heroes of sorts- they portray so many human characteristics that,  
by watching them and living with them, we can ultimately learn how our interactions  
could affect the world around us. Something like that.  
  
Please Enjoy.  
_Der Doberman_  
  
P.S. For those who have read my story titled "Curiosity", please consider it a teaser for or  
work loosely connected to, although not intertwined with, the plot of this series. I may  
reiterate parts of it somewhere in the course of this narrative, although I haven't yet truly  
decided. Also, if you're looking for a purely yiffy tale, I'd suggest you skip over this one.  
Scenes fitting this description will be few and far between, this really isn't a story written  
for porn's sake. Just so you know.  
  

 1- A Husky Tells No Tales  
  
Exile wiped a stained paw across his brow, preventing the sweat beading above his sky  
blue eyes from blinding him. His paw left a thick, black line of grease on his forehead, a  
hindrance he was willing to tolerate for the time being. Snow beat down on his hunched  
figure as he slaved over a wrecked helicopter, the latest result of his leader's magnificent  
piloting skills.  
  
He sighed as he worked the wrench in his paw over the crusted bolts on the machine's  
insides. As he strained to tighten the pieces of the flying beast, his shoulders flexed and  
the green shirt of his Road Rovers' uniform stretched taught. Despite the conditions, he  
considered himself to be making great time on the chopper; he had originally estimated  
that nearly a day would be required to get it in running order again, but he had toiled  
extra hard since his team's departure just a few hours ago and was now nearing the final  
few necessary touch-ups.  
  
The light blue husky took a break from his grueling task, leaning away from the open  
compartment and resting on his haunches. He worked his paws together, trying to warm  
them up as well as iron out the cramps that had taken up residence there.  
  

  He took this opportunity to size up his surroundings for the first time since the Rovers'  
untimely landing- all he had known before was that it was cold and snowy (a climate he  
was not unused to, having been raised in Siberian winters). Around him he found rows  
upon rows of gorgeous coniferous trees, firs and pines that made his canine instincts  
chomp at the bit. The breeze that blew through these trees was cool, but not as cold as he  
had originally conceived, and it carried with it the scent of nature, an array of plants and  
animals.  
  
The CB Radio in the helicopter crackled, bringing the husky out of his mesmerized  
trance, "Exile, this is Hunter, do you have a copy?"  
  
The blue dog bounced to his feet and rushed to the cockpit of the flying contraption,  
sliding expertly into the pilot's seat and picking up the radio's microphone in the same  
movement. A small compartment in the dash opened as he did so, spilling several items  
and a few color photographs onto the floor of the cockpit. He was surprised by them, but  
didn't take the time to think about their implications. Holding down the switch on the  
side of the communicator, Exile responded shakily, "Da comrade, this is Exile."  
  

  The voice on the other end was urgent and spoke in a hushed tone, "How close to  
finished is the Air Rover?"  
  
"She can fly. How far, I cannot say right now, would be anything from ten to fifteen  
miles," Exile paused. His leader on the other end of the conversation wouldn't like what  
he was about to say, "I do not think she could take us back to mission controlski. I need  
parts that were lost in the crash, and without them we will not get more than thirty miles.  
Over."  
  
There was no response for a good thirty seconds, and, just as he started to worry about his  
comrades, the radio buzzed again, "That'll have to do Exile. How fast could you get to  
the compound?"  
  
"I will be there quick as... Something quick. Over and out."  
  
The husky didn't wait for a response, if one was even coming. He was easily a thirty  
minute walk away from where his team was. Looking in the cargo bay of the helicopter,  
he came across a small, green snowmobile with the yellow-on-red R symbol of the Road  
Rovers painted on the side. He dragged it out of the chopper and hopped on, revving the  
engine as soon as he was in the driver's seat.  
  

  Like a flash he was off through the woods, skirting wildly through the shrubs and  
overhanging branches. The machine handled well, dodging thick tree trunks as they  
appeared before him. It was almost as if the trees were leading him toward the compound  
with every twist and turn of his vehicle. Regardless, it was several minutes before he was  
anywhere near the compound and his comrades.  
  
The radio on the snowmobile crackled, and the sounds of gunfire were heard behind the  
hurried voice of Hunter, "Exile, there's been a problem. Colleen's been captured and is  
being held at the center compound. We're under heavy fire, and need you to meet us in  
the loa- Blitz! Get down!" A large explosion sounded over the communication system,  
followed closely by static.  
  
Exile urged the sleek vehicle to go faster.  
  
Soon enough the menacing structure loomed on the horizon. It was a large wooden  
construction, surrounded on all four sides by a thick timber wall. In the center of the  
compound was a large building that jutted sorely out of the earth. It grew skyward and  
split into two towers, each flying a long yellow pennant at their peak.  
  

  Exile stopped the snowmobile and stowed it away in some of the brush and undergrowth,  
hoping to be able to make a quick getaway if the situation required it. Glancing at the  
spot one last time, he began making his way through the diminishing forest and toward  
the compound. Instinctively he checked his pistol in its holster, making sure that it was  
loaded and that the safety was off. He didn't know what exactly to expect, but he  
remembered from all his training that if he expected the worst, then nothing would  
surprise him.  
  
He made his way along the brush line until he found the main entrance to the compound.  
It was a stout oaken gate that opened on two sides to allow vehicle traffic through. As the  
husky slowed to examine it from a distance, there was a loud creaking noise and the  
monstrous barrier began swinging outward. Quickly ducking back behind a tall tree,  
Exile watched and waited for his opportunity.  
  
A large camouflaged jeep rolled up and stopped a few yards away from the gate, allowing  
it room to fully swing open. Its side was marked with two great red letters: GP. Exile  
instinctively shook his head and wondered why he hadn't thought sooner that it might be  
General Parvo who was behind this whole debacle. He watched as a guard carrying a  
standard issue assault rifle and another holding a clipboard walked up to the driver's  
door, exchanged a few words and returned back into the compound. The trucks engine  
revved and it began moving through the great archway.  
  

  Exile realized that he wouldn't be able to dwell long on what the General was up to. As  
soon as the military truck began to accelerate, the husky took off from his hiding place  
and sprinted toward the back of the truck as fast as his strong legs would allow. With a  
powerful leap he threw himself under the canopy, rolling into a crouch with his pistol  
drawn. Except for several crates, the inside of the transport was empty. Exile settled in  
behind a rather large mound of boxes as the truck made its way toward the building at the  
center of the compound.  
  
The jeep came to a stop. Exile held his breath as he heard the cab door open and slam.  
Footsteps sounded around the side of the vehicle, and he twisted the silencer of his pistol  
into the muzzle, hoping that he wouldn't have to use it. The footsteps stopped behind the  
truck and were replaced with the sound of the tailgate being pulled down to allow the  
crates to be unloaded. Exile held his weapon at the ready with his finger on the trigger,  
waiting to see if he would be discovered.  
  

  The driver began climbing into the back of the truck. Crouching low, the husky prepared  
to spring on him in case he shouted for backup when he found an unwanted passenger.  
  
From outside a voice sounded, and the driver clambered noisily from the truck bed,  
responding, "No need, I'll have it all out in a jiff. And don't tell Parvo!"  
  
The voice called back, barely reaching Exile's straining ears, "Well, alrighty, but there  
won't be many happy soldiers when they find out that there ain't work t'be done!"  
  
Laughing, the driver closed the gate, "I don't suppose I'd be able to come in with you all  
and grab a cup o' joe before I have to do all this unloading, would I?"  
  
"Sure thing, just make sure you get it all unloaded by the time the General comes back to  
check on it- that's a pretty precious cargo you've got there and I wouldn't want to be on  
the receiving end of his wrath if it went undone."  
  
Two pairs of footsteps receded into the distance, followed briefly by the sound of a  
slamming door. Exile climbed warily from behind the crates and slipped over the back  
gate of the truck, landing softly in a crouch. His eyes scanned his surroundings, looking  
for a way into the main compound.  
  

  He was inside of a cavernous hanger. The jeep had been parked at the wall furthest from  
the door and was surrounded on many sides by other trucks. Outside of the other vehicles  
were stacks of similar crates as had been in the one Exile had ridden in. As he surveyed  
the garage, he noticed a large windowed room a short distance to his left. Inside it he  
could see several soldiers dressed in the standard garb of Parvo's forces. Their backs  
were all turned to the window as they watched a small television, the glow of which  
illuminated the glass panes.  
  
Exile decided to head in the opposite direction of the room, ducking behind the parked  
trucks as he went. Soon enough he found a small, metal door that opened into a long  
corridor, which was littered with similar doors on each side. The husky paused just inside  
the doorway a moment, quickly coming to a decision. He slid silently along the poorly lit  
hallway, cracking each door he came across as he went. None of the adjacent rooms were  
occupied, and the husky was soon concerned with the lack of force displayed inside the  
compound.  
  

  As he came to the last door in the hallway, he muttered under his breath, "A wild duck-  
chase, that's what this is. They could be anywhere."  
  
The door creaked as he opened it slightly, letting a small pool of light flood into the dim  
hallway. Without warning the handle was ripped from his grasp and he found himself  
face to face with a hulking mutated great dane, one of General Parvo's latest creations.  
  
He ducked aside as one of the cano-mutants giant fists crashed into the doorframe where  
his head had been seconds before. Rolling backwards, he was quickly on his feet with  
pistol drawn, firing three successive rounds into the monster's left shoulder. The dane  
was not even phased as it rushed him, fists raised and ready for damage. Exile didn't have  
time to take aim and pull the trigger before the beast caught him with a swift right hook  
that sent him sprawling. He watched helplessly as his gun slid down the hall away from  
him.  
  
The dane didn't give Exile time to get back on his feet. Wrapping a giant paw around the  
husky's throat, it lifted him high above his head. Exile could feel the air being cut off  
from his brain, and he struggled instinctively to free himself, kicking out at the mutant  
with both his feet. His steel-toed boots hit the dane in both eyes, temporarily blinding it  
and causing the grip around Exiles throat to loosen, dropping him to the ground in a heap.  
  

  Gasping for breath, the husky was up and pounding down the hallway toward his  
discarded pistol. The beast behind him roared and charged after him, using an acute sense  
of hearing to give chase. Exile lost his balance as he ran wildly and slid the last few feet  
to his weapon, picking it up as his skid by. He turned to face his pursuer on his knees, just  
in time to have the sightless monster trip over him and fall sprawling to the ground  
behind him.  
  
The husky spun about and raised the pistol as the dane climbed back to its feet. Sight  
returned to the abomination's eyes, and the last thing it saw was the muzzle of Exile's  
gun flashing as he fired four rounds into the creature's brain.  
  
The husky dropped to his knees, shaking as the dispatched barbarian fell fatally wounded  
to the ground. His hands shook as he dropped the empty clip to the floor and reloaded the  
gun, cocking it as he did. Leaving the slain monster behind him, he returned to the door  
and snuck through quietly, hoping that a similar surprise wasn't waiting for him on the  
other side.  
  

  The room he entered was brightly lit by a single, fluorescent bulb that shone down on a  
lone, bloodied figure strapped to a chair at the center. Exile quickly rushed over and  
began untying the bruised form of Hunter, a normally perky golden retriever. The canine  
was unconscious, slouched forward with a series of welts and bumps beginning to form  
all over his face and neck. As the final bonds were undone, Hunter's senseless body fell  
forward. Exile caught him, and, swinging him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes he  
carried him to a corner, setting him down gently.  
  
"Comrade, comrade, wake up!" Exile tapped softly on the retriever's shoulder, hoping  
that the prostrate canine would come around soon. Shaking Hunter lightly, he opened up  
a flask of water that he always carried in his pocket and poured a bit over his leader's  
head.  
  
This did the trick, and Hunter's eyes opened weakly. His head throbbed, and he winced in  
pain. Spitting blood out onto the floor, he addressed the husky feebly, "Glad you could  
make it."  
  

  Exile shook his head, "Da, me too, although I wish I'd have come sooner. Where are the  
others? This place is like bad dreamski."  
  
"I'm not sure," Hunter coughed, "We were separated when the soldiers attacked us.  
Colleen's up at the top of the high tower, I'm sure, but Blitz and Shag could be anywhere.  
I don't know if they escaped or were captured."  
  
Exile nodded grimly. The team had been scattered, and his leader was in no shape to help  
find them. Biting his lip, he took his pistol from the holster and handed it to Hunter,  
"There are many trucks back along the hallway outside. Get into the back of one of them  
and try to hide there until I come back; I'll find the others."  
  
Hunter was about to protest but stopped when his gaze met Exile's determined eyes.  
Climbing sorely to his feet, he went out the way that the husky had entered the room,  
turning back momentarily, "Good luck, Exile. I'll try and have a truck in shape to move  
by the time you get back."  
  
With a click of the door behind him, the retriever disappeared, leaving Exile to press on  
alone. As the husky opened the other door in the interrogation room, he was unarmed and  
unprepared for what might meet him on the other side, but he strode recklessly through  
the portal regardless of any danger that might lurk there. He had one goal in mind: to  
rescue his friends.  
  

  ~  
  
The slender Doberman pinscher ducked behind what was left of a wall as bullets flew  
overhead. He struggled to reload his MP5, which had been hit and damaged in a previous  
barrage. Glancing over at his comrade, a large, white-furred sheepdog, he shook his head,  
"This is my last clip, Shag. After this I'm running on empty."  
  
Shag looked back at him. The Doberman could tell that the sheepdog was frightened to  
death but had adopted a dangerous look on the outside. He pulled a shotgun from his fur  
and passed it across to him, muttering incoherently as he did.  
  
The Doberman nodded. "Alright, we do it once we're out of bullets, okay? The idea of  
rushing them with nothing but shotguns doesn't exactly thrill me, but if we're going out  
we might as well take some of them with us." Turning back to the wall, he mumbled to  
himself, "Okay, Blitz, give 'em a good show. Eins, zwei, drei!"  
  
With a roar he shot back up above the pile of rubble, spraying bullets in the direction of  
his enemies at the other end of the colossal room. He and Shag had been running from the  
score of soldiers for a long while before they found an entrance to the giant hanger they  
were now in. Row upon row of trucks were parked against the wall furthest from the  
great door of the hanger, which was now open as the soldiers poured in.  
  

  Turning to the sheepdog, Blitz screamed over the sound of the melee, "Retreat! Back  
behind the trucks!"  
  
The two canines backed up wildly until they were protected slightly by the large vehicles.  
A slew of bullets tore through everything around them, one catching Blitz in the left  
shoulder. This didn't discourage him from popping out from behind the truck to return  
fire, wounding three of the soldiers in the process. He slid down to a crouch as his  
weapon began clicking wildly, firing nothing. He swore as he pulled his small, 9mm  
pistol from its holster and cocked it.  
  
Suddenly the remaining soldiers were beset upon by a bombardment of bullets from the  
side. Blitz and Shag rose to see Hunter flying towards the now-deteriorating force of  
soldiers with speed only he could accomplish. The two canines followed Hunter's lead  
and charged with automatic shotguns raised to the ready. They were quickly among the  
remaining troops, vanquishing several. The surviving few turned tail and ran.  
  
Hunter flashed a cocky smile at the pair of canines, "Boy, am I glad to see you guys!"  
  

  "Not as glad as we are to see you," Blitz responded, "Let's get out of here."  
  
"Not so fast. We still need to wait for Exile and Colleen," Hunter said, taking charge of  
the situation, "But first, we need to get one of these trucks working. Are there any that  
weren't damaged when all hell broke loose?"  
  
Shag began babbling nonsensically, but was quieted when Hunter covered his mouth with  
a paw, "Shh, we can be sure that Parvo's troops will be back, yes, but until then we need  
to get ready to blow this joint."  
  
Blitz nodded knowingly, "Most of these jeeps were ruined when we were attacked, but  
there might be a few down at the far end that are still in decent shape. Follow me."  
  
The three Cano-sapiens began jogging swiftly down the row of trucks, until they got to  
the final one. Inspecting it thoroughly and finding nothing wrong, they climbed in, Shag  
and Blitz in the rear and Hunter in the cab. The keys were still dangling from the ignition,  
a fortunate occurrence that Hunter took as a good omen. He turned the key, and the truck  
started with a rumble.  
  

  Shag and Blitz were situating themselves between the massive amounts of crates in the  
back of the truck. Trying to make room for the other two once they arrived, the  
Doberman accidentally toppled a pile of the boxes over the back gate and they fell to the  
floor, shattering open. As the contents spilled out onto the cold concrete, Blitz hopped  
down and ran up to the driver's side door, yelling to Hunter in the process, "Come quick,  
you have to see this!"  
  
The retriever clambered out of the driver's seat, leaving the engine running. He was  
immensely surprised when he saw the contents of the broken crates, "I would _not_ have  
predicted _this_!"  
  
Lying on the floor were several assault rifles, an assortment of pistols, and many clips of  
ammunition. The retriever scooped an AK-47 into his paws and loaded it, smirking to his  
two comrades as he did, "At least now we'll be ready when the bad-guys come back,  
eh?"  
  
Arming themselves to the teeth, the three canines settled back into the truck, waiting to  
see whether it would be their comrades or another battalion of enemy soldiers that would  
make it to them first.  
  

  ~  
  
Exile searched frantically. It seemed as if the compound was composed of a mass of  
never-ending hallways that led to other hallways that led to rooms with only one  
entrance. It was, as he had said earlier, like a bad dream. The whole time he'd been  
searching he hadn't yet run across another living soul, good or evil. He was beginning to  
grow distressed. He turned down yet another long corridor with doors on either side, and  
the sight of it drove him into a fit of rage. He lashed out at the wall angrily, kicking at it  
with the bottom of his boot.  
  
With a creak, a small trapdoor opened in the wall. Exile crouched, extremely surprised by  
his find. Looking through the opening, he saw that it was a short passage into a larger  
chamber. He dove into the doorway and crawled swiftly through, emerging on the other  
side.  
  
A large, winding staircase ascended above him into the heights of the circular tower that  
he had entered. Silently congratulating himself, he started jogging up the stairs, taking  
them two or three at a time. It was a long climb. The cement steps seemed to grow longer  
as the tower stretched upwards, and Exile found himself gasping for breath when he  
finally reached the landing at the top. A stout, wooden door was the only thing around to  
greet his arrival. Throwing caution to the wind, he barged through the barrier, nearly  
knocking it flat in the process.  
  

  The room inside was bathed in a crimson light. Looking around, he found that a small,  
red table-lamp was the only light source in the room. It rested on a circular bedside table  
that had been moved next to the door, most likely, he decided, so that whoever entered  
the room could turn it on. The only other piece of furniture in the area was a large, four-  
post bed with an expansive canopy and curtains that covered all view of the inside. Exile  
crept softly towards it, grabbing the side of one of the sprawling drapes. He ripped it  
aside and was dumbfounded at what he discovered.  
  
The bed was empty, save for a small pair of brass knuckles which, upon inspection, Exile  
realized belonged to Colleen. He swore aloud and looked for any exit to the room besides  
the door that he had entered through. Finding none, he cursed again, and, given to  
desperation, he began calling, "Colleen! Colleen! Are you around here?"  
  
There was a muffled scream from above. He looked up and immediately thanked his  
lucky outburst. A long figure was silhouetted against the canopy of the bed. Climbing up  
one of the four bed-posts, Exile found the British collie tied up and lying on top of the  
canopy. He pulled her down gently and untied her. The two of them sat on the bed a  
moment, waiting for the blood to work itself back into her limbs.  
  

  Colleen was absolutely elated to see a familiar face, and she rewarded Exile's rescue with  
a swift kiss on his cheek that caused him to blush deeply, "Thank you, you really saved  
m'life there. I was beginning to think that no one was coming for me."  
  
Exile grinned and bounced to his feet, handing her the brass knuckles in the process, "We  
aren't out of the dodging yet. Follow me."  
  
The collie followed him as he led her out of the room and down the stairs, and then  
through countless deserted corridors. After the fifth or sixth similar hallway she was  
considerably turned around and voiced her concern, "Exile, are you sure you know where  
we're going?"  
  
"I have no idea, actually. I'm as lost as, as, well, I'm as lost as someone who hasn't been  
found!" Exile replied, thoroughly turned around in the similar passages, "I'm sure it's  
right around here, though. Just, right through this doorski-"  
  
Pushing the door open, the pair was met with the welcome sight of the cavernous garage.  
The large hanger door was wide open, and a truck was idling at the center of the area.  
The two immediately recognized Hunter's form sitting in the driver's seat. They took off  
in a sprint towards the jeep, Colleen climbing into the passenger's seat and Exile joining  
Shag and Blitz in the back. The sheepdog handed him an assault rifle, which he accepted  
graciously.  
  

  Hunter gunned the truck into motion not a moment too soon. As they sped out of the  
hanger a horde of soldiers poured out of the barracks not three hundred yards away.  
Hunter spun the wheel and pushed the jeep as fast as he could towards the complex's  
main entrance. The gates, which had been left open during the whole ordeal, began  
swinging closed. Realizing that they might not make it through, Hunter ordered his team  
to brace themselves, "Hold on, guys, it's gonna be close!"  
  
Grabbing the side of the canopy, the three dogs in the back braced themselves tight. The  
jeep roared towards the diminishing gap in the gate, and sped through with inches to  
spare. Watching as soldiers cascaded out of the compound firing fruitlessly at the  
escaping truck, Exile and Blitz congratulated each other on a job well done.  
  
As the compound rapidly disappeared into the horizon behind them, Hunter chuckled.  
Their mission had been compromised, sure, but it had nonetheless been a success.  
Glancing at the exhausted collie seated next to him, he raised his voice so that the three in  
the back could hear, "Good job, guys. Now, let's hit the road, Rovers!"  
  

  The five comrades each leaned back and relaxed, free for the moment of any worries that  
they'd had before. Blitz closed his eyes and was soon snoring softly, which caused Shag  
to pull a pair of earmuffs from his fur and put them on so that he too might get some  
sleep. Exile gazed out the back of the truck, lost deeply in thought, his mind returning to  
the items and photographs that he had found while working on the Air Rover. He had no  
idea what the consequences would be when he finally confronted Hunter about them a  
few days later.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/rm8x3Lym