Archive Of Our Own Hazbin Hotel の小説・ストーリー

I kept wanting to see if a glitch could actually outrun the pen. Suddenly, the mundane room began to shake. The coffee in the mugs rippled. The cat on the fence outside turned into a black silhouette and vanished. "What's happening?" I demanded. "The Archive is a closed loop," the Reader said, their face turning pale. "By bringing you here, into the 'Outer Room,' I’ve broken the barrier. The system is trying to reclaim its data. It doesn't care if this room is 'real' or not. To the Archive, anything that contains Maya and Kael is a partition that needs to be formatted."

Cassian’s POV The storm had barely died by the time we returned to the safe house. Rain slid down the windows like sheets of glass, the world outside gray and unrecognizable. Inside, the hum of servers filled the silence. Every screen glowed faintly blue, a dozen ghosts of my own making staring back at me. Rubio and Mara were waiting when we walked in. They both stood when they saw my face, reading what I wasn’t saying. “Archive’s gone,” Rubio said quietly. “We picked up the explosion from halfway across the docks.”

Still calculating. Adrian immediately raised his weapon. Arthur told him not to shoot. He said if he had wanted us dead, we would never have reached the room. My father asked what he wanted. Arthur looked at me. He said he wanted to finish what he had started. He explained that the public archive had destroyed the organization, but it had not destroyed the knowledge contained within it. He had one final backup stored beneath the estate. The backup contained the original Genesis architecture and enough information to rebuild the system.

Skye – POV There was a room in the old schoolhouse we hadn’t touched since buying the place. We’d joked about it, of course—called it the “haunted archive” because of the boxes piled from floor to ceiling and the one squeaky window that never quite shut right. It smelled like forgotten wood and damp paper. River always said, “One day,” every time we passed it. And now, it was that day. The Rewrite retreats had grown fast. So fast, in fact, that our original materials—journals, letters, manuscripts, workshop notes—were stuffed in whatever nooks we could find. That dusty room had become a necessary evil.

“That archive contains everything that happened around this pack house. Every movement, every visitor, every meeting that took place where those cameras could see.” He paused. “Bringing it back won’t be a bad idea.” My fingers tightened around the fabric of my dress. My breathing changed before I could stop it. Alpha Azrael was probably worried about his own secrets, the things he had done while Alpha Kadox was away, the private discussions with the elders, the property matters and everything else he didn’t want exposed but to me, the archive meant something far worse. If those recordings existed, Alpha Azrael would discover that on the night he had been drunk, he had never entered my room.

We stepped inside, the heavy metal door shutting behind us with a loud, echoing thud. The air inside smelled instantly of damp plaster, mold, old paper, and stale ozone. Our sneakers squeaked softly against the dust-covered linoleum as Damon clicked on his phone's flashlight, cutting a narrow beam of white light through the pitch-black hallway. We navigated the maze of abandoned corridors until we found a door marked: ARCHIVES & RECORDS — RESTRICTED. The lock had already been broken, the door resting slightly ajar. Damon pushed it open with his foot, shielding me behind his broad shoulder as we stepped inside.

“Still playing at usefulness, spare? Most people would take public humiliation as a sign to stay in their rooms and stop embarrassing the bloodline. You just find a darker corner to do it in.” I kept my eyes on the page. The low heat that never fully left me these days pulsed once, warning. “The archives do not close.” “They should when you are in them.” He stepped closer. The sun-warmed scent of him cut through the dust and made the restless ache under my skin sharpen. “What exactly do you think you will find in those old books that will make anyone forget what you are?”

The Archive was not a room of books or scrolls. It was a cathedral of "Cold-Storage" glass pillars, each glowing with a faint, amber light. Here, the Van Dyne family had stored the "Unfiltered Truth"—the data too dangerous for the Ouroboros, too dark for the Trident Group, and too heavy for the world to carry.

The cabin lights flickered. “They’ll find us soon,” Rowen said, moving to a small metal case on the counter. She opened it inside were maps, printed blueprints, a radio transmitter, and two burner phones. “We have one chance to end this.” Clara’s gaze dropped to the map. “Where?” Rowen pointed to a mark near the outskirts of the city a large facility labelled “Project B – Archive Hub.” “This is where it all converges,” Rowen explained. “Contracts, recordings, test models, payout logs it’s the archive. They’ve been digitising everything before destroying the physical records.”

They would need to be even more careful this time—security would be tighter after their last break-in. As they finalized their plan, Claud turned to his companions. “This is it. We need to be at our best. No mistakes.” Lycidas nodded. “We’ve got this. Let’s go.” They moved out, their determination unwavering. The hidden archive was their next target, and they would stop at nothing to expose the arbiter and end the vampire threat once and for all. Zakaria led them to the archive, a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city. It looked like any other abandoned structure, but beneath the surface lay a labyrinth of corridors and rooms filled with incriminating documents.