Author's Note : Hellow people !

Thank you LN for your review on chapter 5, and thanks to everyone who's read, followed and favorited the story so far ! :-)

Disclaimer : Eoin Colfer is the author of the Artemis Fowl series, therefore I do not own any of its characters. Many elements of this fanfiction (including its title ^^) are also inspired or directly drawn from the 1998 Japanese anime 'Serial Experiments Lain' (GO WATCH IT) even though it is NOT a crossover.

Author's Recommandation : I personally love writing and reading to music. If you're interested, I highly recommand listening to Neon Demon (main theme) by Cliff Martinez, from the eponymous movie by Nicolas Winding Refn (freakin aesthetical masterpiece if you ask me). This piece of music just really fits the mood of the fanfic !

Enjoy your reading ! :-)

Database #06 : Backup Failure

DOCTOR PO'S OFFICE, SAINT BARTLEBY SCHOOL FOR BOYS

Dr Po was worried.

After their two sessions last September, and the boy's father's reappearance, the psychological counselor had only seen Artemis Fowl in the school canteen, and met him once or twice in the corridors. Even though he had been far less relying on aspirine pills since he had stopped his sessions with the young Fowl, Dr Po somehow cared about him.

The kid was exasperating, smug, and hermetic like a Russian silent black and white constructivist movie – in Po's opinion – ; but somehow, the counselor had managed to disconcert the teenager. He had opened a breach, and they had made some progress together – most notably, on the notion of respect. It was slim, but it was certainly bigger than what any psychiatrists or psychologists had ever gotten from Artemis Fowl before. Thus, the counselor had been quite disappointed to hear about the father's return – as seen from the disastrous influence this man had had on his son's psyche, Dr Po couldn't think of this miraculous comeback as good news.

Yet, against all odds, it seemed that Artemis had actually settled down after his family had been reunited. Even though they had stopped their sessions after the father's return, Po had noticed the young boy was different – he wouldn't say happier, but maybe… appeased. As if some constant background pain, like a sting in the heart, had eventually faded. Healed, even.

It was only three months ago that things had started to go awry.

Dr Po had no idea why, but one day, Artemis Fowl just became completely withdrawn – of course he had never been the social type, but he had always loved tormenting other students or discrediting teachers with these sharp comments and witty retorts only he could pull of. And suddenly, he just stopped talking to anyone, merely answering when asked to by an adult. According to the teachers with whom Po had talked to, the young Fowl was even more disturbing now than before. He would just sit at his desk, face expressionless but oddly wide-eyed. Scanning everything. As if he was waiting for something to happen ; but God knows what was in the boy's mind now.

At first, the psychological counselor had thought the school staff members were exaggerating – that was before he crossed Artemis' path in the corridor, and, for a split second, thought he was facing a live action version of The Corpse Bride's Victor Van Dort character – only with penetrating blue eyes and a crueler expression.

Apparently, the young Fowl was not only acting weirder than usual, he was also truly in poor health condition. According to the school nurse, he was suffering from insomnia, and often skipped class because of severe migraines. She had send emails to his parents, who acknowledged her warnings ; but nothing happened. Dr Po was starting to seriously question whether or not they cared about their son at all, or had any actual educational impact over him. Both options were worrying to say the least.

And then, after the first December weekend, Artemis didn't show up at St Bartleby on Monday. Guiney, the school's headmaster, told Dr Po that the young Fowl was sick and would skip school for a few days. Soon, the few days turned into a week, then two weeks. The psychological counselor then decided to take things into action, and wrote an email directly to Angeline Fowl. There was no way Po would risk being called out for non-assistance to a person in danger, and whatever was on Artemis' mind, it obviously tormented him at the point where his health was at risk. It wouldn't be easy, but Po swore to do the best he could to help the young Fowl – whether he liked it or not.

Angeline agreed to plan a session for Artemis on the following Friday, the last day of school before Christmas break ; and Artemis certainly didn't like it. And he made Dr Po pay for the nuisance.

.

They were now both sitting face to face in the counselor's office, and if Dr Po had been slightly concerned about the young Fowl's well-being before his two weeks' absence, he was now truly worried. Artemis was still very ill-looking, if not more than when he had left school fifteen days ago.

As for himself, Artemis paid zero attention to his counselor, and was entirely focused on his new cellphone – his previous one didn't survive the dangerously increasing daily connections to the Wired. Artemis was currently logged in, actually, and checking on his centaurian nemesis through Argon's clinic security cameras. Though he was thrilled to see Foaly at the hospital – for he knew the technological genius would now be powerless and completely vulnerable –, some deeply buried part of himself couldn't help but feel… guilty.

He almost died. I never meant to hurt him physically.

… Or did I ?

While Artemis was lost in his thoughts, Dr Po's concern for the young boy grew bigger and bigger by the minute.

Artemis had always had an insatiable lust for knowledge, even greater than for gold. That was precisely, before everything else he was capable of, what made him so dangerous. And now that he had the Wired, he was virtually omniscient.

Yet, he had no idea of what he actually looked like when navigating the Wired.

But now, Dr Po did.

The counselor shifted uneasily in his seat, as he realized he wasn't just irritated by the young boy's insolence – phones were supposed to be forbidden during a session. No, it was not irritation that made his heart beat faster – it was fear. Actually, Po realized that "disturbing" wasn't fit to describe Artemis Fowl as he was seeing him right now. The correct word was… creepy.

The session had started merely five minutes ago, and since the moment he had been seated Artemis had been connected to the Wired – and he hadn't blinked once. His eyes' exploded blood vessels gave his sclera a sick red shade, but he didn't blink. He sat still as a statue, muscles tensed and eyes locked to the phone's screen ; only his pupils moved, slightly but extremely fast, as he was following the falling lines of code streaming down his cellphone's interface. Three more minutes, and he would start nosebleeding.

Dr Po was now utterly frightened. He had no idea what was on the young Fowl's cellphone right now, but he could feel it was not natural.

Suddenly, he violently hit his chair's armrest with his clenched fist. At first, he thought Artemis hadn't even heard it, but then, slowly, the young boy raised his eyes, his look so murderous that for a split second, the counselor felt like he had interrupted a vampire's meal and was soon going to become the dessert. But Po managed to keep his composure straight – come on, the kid was merely thirteen, there was no reason to be intimidated at all –, and his voice was actually pretty firm and autoritary when he spoke.

" Young man, you are perfectly aware cellphones are not allowed during our sessions. Would you mind letting it go for a few minutes, please ? "

Artemis slowly put the phone face down on his lap, crossing his hands upon it, and granted the counselor with a contemptuous and impenetrable look. Po sighted.

" I can see you have absolutely no desire to be here at all, but your mother and I felt like you needed to talk to someone. What do you feel about this ? "

" It is a complete waste of time. Yours as much as mine ", Artemis replied icily.

That wasn't entirely true. Artemis actually had a little plan in order to allow the psychologist to actually prove himself useful.

On the other hand, he was truly furious at his mother. She hadn't consulted him on the matter despite the fact he was the first one to be concerned. She had been plotting behind his back with this ridiculous counselor, and presented him with the done deal when it was too late for him to do anything but obey.

Once again, she had forgotten who her son actually was, and infantilized him.

But fair enough. If his own mother couldn't be trusted, then he would control any email or text she would write that involved him. Of course he had done that before, sometimes – but as she seemed to have no respect for him, then he felt no remorse disrespecting her anymore. And now that he had the Wired, she wouldn't notice, anyway.

Dr Po took a few notes, and tried to look at the young boy's eyes without flinching.

" Okay, well, speaking of time, it's been a while since I've last seen you here. How have you been doing ? " he asked.

" Exquisite ", Artemis replied, his fingers tapping his cellphone's plastic shell to express his boredom. He gave the counselor a complacent smile. " What next ? The weather, or the food I've had for breakfast ? I'm sure you can manage to feature these fascinating revelations in Psychology Today. "

God, I had forgotten how annoying he is, thought Po in an effort not to insult the teenager.

" Why don't you tell me about your father instead ? Aren't you happy to have him back ? "

Artemis maintained his superior smile, but his tone slightly hardened.

" Of course I am. "

Po raised an eyebrow.

" It doesn't really seem like you are. What's wrong ? Last time we talked about your father, you seemed to care a lot about him. "

" What child wouldn't care for his missing father ? " Artemis replied matter-of-factly. " Or have you decided, like your previous colleague, that I was a sociopath ? "

" I don't think you are a sociopath, Artemis ", Po said. Well, I didn't until today, now I'm not so sure. " Or is it what you want me to believe ? "

" Ask me why the girl killed her own sister, after she fell in love with an unknown man at her father's funeral, and you'll see ", Artemis retorted.

Po swallowed. The classical test to detect psychopaths. It had been invented by an American psychologist who interviewed serial killers.

" Why did the girl kill her own sister ? " the counselor asked, even though he knew it was pointless.

Artemis's smile widened, revealing his teeth.

" Because she is an idiot. She should have killed her uncle, and not her sister. Why would her sister know the man and not her, if this is her father's funeral ? That would be random, to say the least. "

Po took several notes, a drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

" Impressive, Artemis, very impressive, as usual… "

The counselor put his pen down. He realized how old and tired he was, and wondered why he had insisted for the young Fowl to come here in the first place.

" Aren't you ever tired of being so lonely ? " he asked bluntly. " Doesn't that exhaust you to have no friend at all ? "

Artemis raised an interrogating eyebrow.

" That wasn't a very delicate way to put it, Doctor. Would you happen to be projecting your own frustration and life disillusions upon me ? How unprofessional. "

Po realized he hadn't been romantically involved with anyone over the last three years, and that since his best friends had moved to Limerick he hardly went out on Saturday nights anymore.

The boy was good. He might actually make a great psychiatrist, wasn't he so stubbornly selfish and individualist.

" Why are you looking at me like this, Doctor ? I thought it was you who wanted to have me here ", Artemis said innocently.

Po pinched the tip of his nose and sighed, completely discouraged.

" I don't understand. We had actually made some progress, last September. How has it all vanished already ? "

Artemis frowned. Last September ? He didn't recall any improvement whatsoever in the two sessions with Dr Po from last September. Was the counselor really becoming precociously senile ?

Po noticed Artemis' confused expression, and found himself at a loss of words. What on Earth was going on ?

" … These sessions did happen, right ? " the counselor asked in an unsecure voice.

For once, Artemis didn't answer Po's disarray with a disdainful repartee.

" Yes, of course. But what are you talking about ? "

Dr Po reached for his laptop and went through his numerised notes and Artemis' file, bewildered.

" We… we had an argument… about the notion of respect. I told you that your problem was that you didn't respect anyone enough to treat them as an equal, and… next session, when I asked you if anyone had managed to get your respect, you said… For Christ's sake, don't you remember ? "

If Po had raised his eyes from his computer, he would have seen that Artemis' gaze had dangerously switched from anxious and confused to coldly hainous. No, he didn't remember, but he knew precisely why.

Artemis took his cellphone and switched the Wired on, blood pumping through his veins. This masquerade had been going on long enough. If he wanted to get closer to his revenge against the fairies, he would have to learn how to master the Wired's edit mode powers. He had learned about it when reading through all of Foaly's notes - which the centaur used to keep in his diary, encrypted directly in the Wired. Artemis had some personal theories about the possibilities of edit mode ; he only needed someone to test these on.

And that was precisely his plan.

Taking advantage of the counselor's inattention – Po was too busy running along Artemis' file, to try and understand why the young boy couldn't remember the only important thing he had learned at St Bartleby –, Artemis infiltrated Po's computer, and found the folder where the doctor kept his official documents. As expected, it included his psychology diploma.

With a single tapping on his tactile cellphone's touchpad, Artemis instantly replaced the neuroscience and social psychology Trinity College degree with a coarsely disguised fake he had previously crafted. Then, he searched the counselor's mailing list, picked another student's parents' email and send headmaster Guiney an extremely virulent complain about Po's "outrageous incompetence".

With other parents email adresses, he sent a few more infuriated messages, including one deliberately stating that the counselor "had probably found his degree in a surprise package ". Not very subtle, but Guiney was about as smart as a gorilla and his brain was certainly about the same size as a peanut, so better be straightforward. Of course, with the help of the Wired, Artemis controlled that the emails would be sent at differents times along the day, seemingly an hour or so after each students' sessions.

Then, he logged out of the Wired, and the session ended some moments after – Po, after seeing what seemed like a defect on his laptop's screen, had decided he was too tired for the session to go any further ; and he had, anyway, understood that he was completely useless. Whatever Artemis was up to, Po couldn't help him.

Artemis exited the counselor's office with a soft, self-satisfied smile on his face. If his hypothesis was correct, the Wired had the ability to link together identical files. So, theorically, if Guiney now checked the numerised copy of Po's diploma, the one he had hired him with and which was stored in the school's database, he should find Artemis' fake version. If he was wrong, nothing would happen.

But if he was, that would be fun, at the very least.

.

After his session with Dr Po, Artemis forced himself to go at the school canteen and, even though he usually ate very little red meat, he took a full plate of sirloin steak and spinach. Seeing how he almost systematically nosebled each time he used the Wired, he needed to absorbe as much iron as he could if he didn't want to end up completely anemic.

With a little more than two weeks of daily use, and the accumulation of aggravating symptoms, Artemis couldn't ignore his addiction to the Wired anymore. The reasonable part of himself screamed that he should warn Butler, try to reduce his visits into the Wired, that this was the wise thing to do.

But even though Artemis was one of the smartest living human being worldwide, there was one thing he would never admit to himself : maybe he was smart, but he certainly wasn't wise. Thus, when given the choice to obtain undefeatable and godlike powers, or put his physical health and sanity first… it is unfortunately easy to guess which option was his priority.

After lunch, Artemis had one hour of Philosophy lesson with the senior group, then two hours of Maths with his regular class. He decided that his second test of the Wired's edit mode powers would take place during the Maths lesson.

Professor Tarkovski's lesson was about the Greek notion of hubris, which he illustrated with the examples of Marcus Antonius, Icarus, and even Lucifer ; but once again, as his thoughts were entirely devoid to the Wired and planning next hour's action, Artemis didn't listen. And once again, that would prove to be a pity.

If he respected his Philosophy teacher, Artemis had much less consideration for Mr Murphy, his class's head teacher, who also ran the Mathematics lessons. When entering the classroom, the young Fowl didn't even bother trying to seem involved : he went for the furthest desk at the end of the room, and only took out his pencil case – for good measure. He wasn't risking anything : Mr Murphy had long since abandoned the idea of interrogating Artemis about the lesson, knowing he would either give him a perfect answer – even if he hadn't been listening –, or straightforwardly ridicule him by correcting a mistake in the problem's formulation.

Artemis just sat there, and watched as his classmates hurriedly and noisily filled the classroom. Each one of them glared at him, not trying to hide their fear or contempt, and sat as far from the young Fowl as the small number of desks allowed. As Mr Murphy silenced the class and began the lesson, Artemis allowed himself a nasty grin. These poor teenagers, thinking that a few feet distance would keep them safe from him.

He pulled out his cellphone from his pocket, and logged on to the Wired. The same overwhelming feeling of ecstasy at having absolute power at the tip of the fingers crushed upon him, but he had long learned to restrain himself even under extreme emotional pressure. He merely shivered delightfully, and nobody noticed anything.

After a few moments – the time for his heartbeat to settle back down –, Artemis started tapping silently on the phone's touchpad. Soon, he had an overview of the entire room's digital devices. He now had access to each of his classmates' cellphones' applications – including the text messages history.

Even if he despised them, Artemis knew his classmates perfectly. He had studied them, and knew precisely the class' different friends groups, each group's nemesis, who hated who, and vice versa. Artemis' eyes were filled with sadistic anticipation as he was running through everyone's texts feed, and as he selected the most embarassing photos and messages he could find – secret love stories, atrocious betrayals, terrible secrets. Enough plot twists for an entire telenovela.

Feeling absolutely no compassion for the twenty-four teenage lives and friendships he was going to destroy in about three seconds, Artemis finished typing his instructions, and sent the command.

This morning, he had tried to see if the Wired could replace an existing file ; now, he would test the Wired's ability to switch together existing files.

At first, the class remained undisturbed. Then, all the students' phones buzzed lightly at the same moment, making everyone raise their head from their notebooks with surprise. Focused on his blackboard, and almost completely deaf, Mr Murphy hadn't heard anything and was continuing the lesson with the same monotone voice. Whispers slowly arose around the classroom, and eventually some students discreetly checked their cellphones.

A chubby brown-haired boy, three desks away from Artemis, gasped in horror, his ears instantly becoming bright red. Across the room, his best friend just stared at his phone, paler than his uniform's shirt. Two others were comparing the message they had just received, and snorted meanly, glancing at a small blonde fourteen years old in the front rank.

Artemis could only see the blonde student's back, but as his shoulders slowly started to tremble, his phone in his hands, Artemis guessed that the boy was crying. Somewhere in the left corner of the classroom, an argument was already starting between four members of the football team, and Griffith, the leader of the group and one of the most abject person Artemis had ever met, suddenly stood up and spat at his neighbour's face.

" Fucking faggot ! ", he said with a disgusted voice.

And then, it was chaos.

Erasers and notebooks were thrown around, some students trying to disappear under their desk while others were up, ready to fight whoever had backstabbed them. Everyone was either screaming insults or breaking into tears, and Mr Murphy just stood at the blackboard, stupefied at the sudden rebellion, mouth open in shock. Finally, when the brown-haired chubby boy's friend rushed across the room and punched him in the face, the teacher awoke from his initial stupor and tried to regain control of the teenagers.

" Quiet ! Quiet ! I said QUIET ! " he yelled furiously, barely covering the ambient cacophony. " What is going on here ? Who started that ? EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP ! "

Of course, a few hours later, when everyone would have calmed down, the suspect they would all think about first would be Artemis. But as always, the Wired hacking was totally untraceable. Artemis had even leaked some messages that concerned him, so it wouldn't seem like he had been spared by the apocalypse – it didn't matter to him, as it was not like he cared at all about being called "Left Foot Fowl", a nickname that both mocked his poor athletic skills and his suspected homosexuality. The play on words was merely childish, and truly didn't deserve Artemis' attention – enough though he now had the name of the student who had started it. But as it was the football team member who was actually secretly in love with Griffith, Artemis thought the situation was already dealt with.

Eventually, Mr Murphy directly called headmaster Guiney, and calm was slowly and painfully restored. Before the two adults could start asking questions, Artemis raised his hand, and was given permission to go to the bathroom due to his nosebleeding.

Facing his reflexion in the dusty mirror, Artemis gave himself a thrilled, victorious smile. Drained by the water, his blood faded down the sink, leaving a rosy trail on the white enamel.

Even in the deeply buried part of himself, Artemis felt absolutely no remorse.

A few hours later, his first theory about the Wired was also to be verified. It was dinnertime, and the entire school was reunited in the huge nineteenth century dining room. The incident that occurred during Mr Murphy's lesson was already on everyone's lips amongst the students – especially since Griffith had been suspended and another student had ended up in the infirmary, after his best friend had broken his nose.

Artemis, sitting alone at the very end of one of the two massive tables, didn't listen to any of the theories about who might be the anonymous hacker who jeopardized the Maths lesson. He was focused on the teachers, who were installed and vividly discussing at the back of the dining room, on a separate table from the teenagers'. He couldn't hear their conversation from where he was, but he didn't need to. He knew perfectly what they were talking about : two seats were empty. Headmaster Guiney's, and Dr Po's.

When the dessert was served, Guiney entered the dining room discreetly and headed for the teachers' table. Artemis sniggered, a dangerous glow in his reddened eyes. Guiney was alone.

Dr Po didn't show up ; and Artemis never saw him again.

.

Later, on the same evening, Artemis locked himself up in his bedroom. The dormitory supervisors generally preferred playing poker rather than actually inspecting the boys' rooms and do what they were paid for, but he couldn't take any risks. The two tests he had successfully conducted today were small and with little impact. But now, he had access to his upgraded laptop, and it was time for some truly wide-ranging experiences.

After a hot shower, Artemis sat at his desk, and opened the laptop. While the machine turned itself on with a soft purr, the young Fowl pulled his notebook from his schoolbag, and opened it at the last page. With his silver fountain pen, marked with his initials, he gracefully crossed out two lines on a six entries list : replace existing file with a counterfeit and swap existing files. He took a few notes, in the same elegant and delicate handwriting, and closed the notebook. He switched off the desk lamp, and turned to face his computer. In the dark, the green screen light accentuated the severeness of his features, the madness in his twisted smile, and the puffiness of the dark circles under his destroyed eyes.

More than ever, he looked like the mere shadow of his former self. A sharp, evil shadow.

Artemis exhaled, and started typing. Now for the next two options : remotely activate an existing file's features, and modify an existing file. Artemis decided to go for the latter first : he had more or less planned the same kind of test than with Po, except it would be on a much bigger scale.

The young Fowl cracked his knuckles, and entered Selene's login and password. Hands shaking from excitation, he waited for the three precious words to come up, with the same impatience in his sick eyes than a heroin addict who stares at his drug, while pressing the syringe's piston.

– Entering the Wired.

As he was alone, Artemis didn't bother concealing a genuine moan of pleasure, and laid back on his chair, loudly catching his breath, eyelids still fluttering. The intensity of that sensation. The purity of true power. Each time felt just like the first – except now, Artemis knew that the Wired was entirely his, and his only. How he understood why Foaly had kept it secret for so long. But the centaur's reign was over, and Artemis' had barely just begun.

He regained his composure quickly, and within a few clicks, he was inside the London Stock Exchange's database. He had a very specific idea of which file he wanted to alter – after all, while he was at it, why not combine the pleasant and the useful ?

And thus, Artemis modified the world price of gold.

He just edited the numbers, and gold's price collapsed instantaneously. In a different terminal, Artemis opened a Czech domotics entreprise's bank account, and bought ten tons of low cost gold. Of course, he had previously taken care of investing a large portion of his registered shares into the Prague-based enterprise. That would considerably sustain his bank account for the next twenty years. Then, the market numbers rebalanced themselves, and everything went back to normal. The entire operation took approximately fifty seconds.

To all traders worldwide, it would seem as if the world price of gold had crashed down and rose up in barely a minute's time, without any possible explanation. And somehow, in that small window of time, a small Czech enterprise had managed to make one of the luckiest investment in history.

Satisfied, Artemis took his notebook and crossed out the fourth entry on his list. When he turned back to his computer, he was more focused than ever. Today's last test would be decisive. If it succeeded, it would become a key part into his revenge scheme against the fairies ; and he would be the most powerful person on Earth. Unquestionably.

Artemis left the London Stock Exchange for Prague's top protection and security company's website. If he could afford some minor experimentations in St Bartleby, the majority of his misdeeds had to be set in Selene's perimeter, if he wanted to avoid raising any suspicions upon him.

In fact, he was starting to believe that even if he was suspected, not a single human organization actually had the power to stop him ; but it was too early to be presomptuous.

In the company's clients database, Artemis had access to more than five hundred private individuals' house alarms, and ten official buildings' security system, including two museums, the National Bank, four embassys and an hospital. As it was the most common option installed, and basically an on/off switch in terms of complexity, Artemis activated the fire alarms in all registered client accounts.

Then, he logged out of the Wired, and connected to Internet, easily bypassing the school's security. In a new tab, he opened the most important Czech information channel's live feed, and crossed his hands under his chin, waiting quietly. He would refresh the page about every two minutes, as composed as always ; but his heart was pounding, and his throat was dry. On this experience's result depended everything.

And then, eleven minutes later, an article popped up in the live feed. Artemis immediately clicked on the new link, his gaze feverish. As he read – he could understand and speak Czech fluently –, his lips slowly stretched into his signature vampiric smile.

It had worked. Perfectly. From his small bedroom in Saint Bartleby, Artemis had activated five hundred and sixty two fire alarms across Prague and its suburbs. The city's fire brigades would have a very busy night checking each alert around the capital, but Artemis couldn't care less. It had worked.

He closed his laptop, and went to lay on his bed. He turned to the window, facing the moon outside. For a split second, he wondered if he was going to wake up in Fowl's Manor bed, from the most surreal dream he would have ever had. But the Wired was real ; realer than anything he had ever done before.

Artemis closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to wander.

He had the power to infiltrate any network, fairy and human, completely undetected, and alterate, replace, switch the files, limited only by his imagination. He was able to take over any type of computer system, above or below ground. He could remotely control machines, institutions, maybe even weapons. A thousand schemes rushed through his brain at the endless possibilities the Wired offered him. Well, his power only extended to digital networks and devices ; but technology was omnipresent. You might as well say Artemis' power was almost entirely limitless, as long as he had a computer powerful enough.

Curled up like a little child in his cold, small bed, the young Fowl chuckled, and started laughing almost hysterically.

He was omniscient, virtually ubiquitous, and omnipotent.

He was a God.

The true God of the Wired.

Overwhelmed by megalomaniac thoughts of the same calibre, Artemis slowly fell asleep. He dreamed of the fairies, and all the suffering he would put them through. Nothing could go wrong anymore : with his wits and the Wired, he had absolutely every variable under his control. Or so he thought.

For actually, Artemis didn't know about all of the Wired's secrets. And most importantly, there was one particular thing he didn't know.

To him, Selene was only an avatar he had created to navigate the Wired anonymously.

He had no idea that she was real.

*dramatic drumbeats*

Oh my, Selene is real and Artemis doesn't know it ! What a twist, huh :-O Would have too easy if everything just went according to plan ^^

I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and the little cameo from Dr Po :-) Poor man, he just wanted to help... and wasn't really so far from some actual good assumptions about Artemis' problems ! Too bad for him...

Next chapter will be a lot longer, for it actually contains some ''real'' action with Holly, and we discover what all this Selene nonsense is all about. Heheheh...

Sweet week to everyone, and see you next Wednesday ! As always, feel free to review, it warms my heart :-)