Author's Note: Thank you for waiting so long. I took a long break away from Artemis Fowl fandom and indulged myself in other writings.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Look at Eoin Colfer, he's the man.

Further Note: I have changed the original title of this work from Artemis Fowl: The Fourth Book, to something more decidedly creative – Deadly Deception.

Also, the original plot I have planned for this has been changed somewhat and the story extended.

I may be looking to rewriting the first few chapters as it is very sparsely written and I feel doesn't do Artemis justice. My style has since grown darker from the last time I updated this fic. I have delved deep, deep, deep into writings that centre around pain, suffering, more pain and more suffering and sometimes death. (No artificial sugar added)

Enjoy anyway…

Artemis awoke perspiring. It was the same recurring dream he had for the past few months. But now he understood the underlying meaning embedded in his subconscious.

The revelation and sudden understanding made him smirk vicious in the dark of his room.

Root panted as he chased the perpetrator down the dark alley.

'Emilien Thorn! Freeze!'

The elf doubled his speed, sprinting around a corner.

The LEP commander took the corner, unclipping the heavy gun at his hips and slipped the safety off.

'Thorn? Stop running and turn yourself in.'

'Commander…' came a leery tone from close behind him. Root straighten in surprised. 'Everybody runs, Commander.'

Root swung around, gun being brought swiftly up to catch the fugitive in the face. But not swift enough. Before he could react, the weapon was knocked from his grip and a tussle for the upper hand followed.

The older elf grunted when a well aimed punch walloped him in the guts.

'D'arvit!' Root gasped for air, winded from the blow.

Emilien grappled for the Nubeam and wrapped his skinny brown fingers around the trigger.

'Freeze! LEP! We have you surrounded! Drop the weapon!'

The startled elf nearly dropped the gun, black eyes widening, for around him, were a dozen or so figures, swathed in black from head to toe, hovering just above his head. His eyes dashed from right to left, searching for a way to escape.

'He's going to run,' crackled Grub into the microphone implanted in his helmet.

'No he ain't,' retorted Nackle.

Emilien dove to the right.

'Get him!'

They soon overpowered the elf and cuffed him.

'D'arvit,' panted the exhausted elf, as he was dragged off.

Root shoved the medic who was attending to his spilt lip away, 'Leave it. The magick will take care of it.'

He leaned across the desk, the light metal desk, arranging his facial features to sport a menacing mask. Considering all the practice he had in front of the mirror each morning perfecting it, it was pretty menacing.

Emilien shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'So…' breathed Root, eyes narrowing dangerously, 'So…'

'So what? You ain't got nothing on me, Root.'

'That's what you think.' Root slapped a thick file onto the desk, 'Take a look. We have had surveillance on your activities since last year, Thorn. Evidence, and plenty of it.'

Emilien's grin faltered slightly.

Pressing further, Root flipped open the file, exposing dozens of animage, each sheet showed an animated Emilien, involved in some kind of criminal activity.

'What do you want, eh? Money? I got plenty of money. Too much money for little old me to finish by myself. So how about I give you a little, eh? Maybe a small sum of like five thou-'

'Trying to bribe an officer is a crime, Thorn.'

'Err… right. Sorry.'

The Commander stared down at pitiable elf before him.

'Fifteen thousand enough?' Emilien tried again.

'Shut up.'

'Okay.'

'You listen here, and you listen good; we have evidence against you and you'd better cooperate or I swear I'll force it out of you personally.'

Emilien cowered in his seat.

Root lit a cigar and puffed from it. He felt his lung compress suddenly and he started coughing, pounding on his chest. Tears were streaming down his face as Root struggled for air.

'Wha… wha… what is happening?' he choked out.

'Oh, don't worry, Julius. It'll be over soon,' smirked Emilien, eyes glinting malevolently.

Root wheezed and tumbled off the chair, gripping at the collar around his throat. He couldn't breathe.

The cigar was poisoned… or drugged.

'D..D'arvit,' he gasped, before he greyed out completely.

When Root awoke, was struck with a massive headache. He groaned and grasped his head. He forced his eyes open and almost dropped back into darkness.

There was blood everywhere. On the walls, floor, table. He rolled himself onto his back.

Oh, Frond, even on the ceiling?!

What happened here?

A loud, consistent pounding was ringing in his ears.

He pushed himself to his feet and let his eyes roam groggily from left to right, taking in the new gruesome interior decoration of the interrogation room.

A small moan from his left caught his attention. He turned.

Emilien lay in a dark pool of his blood. He wheezed and snorted when a tiny crimson bubble ballooned from one nostril and burst, sending a fine spray of red on his battered face.

The door of flew open, blasted open by a long squeeze of a Neutrino. The pounding in his ears stopped and Root knew that the pounding he mistook earlier as the blood rushing back into his brain was actually the pounding of officers at the three inch thick reinforced metal doors.

'What did you do?!' cried a balding sprite clad in a shabby threadbare coat and tie.

Officer Kelp appeared behind the flustered sprite, his face grim. 'Sir, I think you should come with us.'

The Commander was confused, 'What?'

He stumbled as the sprite rushed past him and crouched gingerly beside the wounded Emilien.

'Who the hell is he?' Root demanded.

'Mr. Scanterborough, Thorn's attorney.'

'Captain, what the hell happened here?'

'I should ask you the same thing, Commander. I have orders to take you into custody for questioning. You have intentionally hurt an elf who was in for questioning.'

Root forced a laugh, 'Me?'

Trouble looked away and said nothing.

'But I didn't do-'

'You are going to pay!' screamed Scanterborough shrilly, 'you have no right harming an innocent elf! I am going to rip you to shreds in court! My client is badly injured! Maybe even permanently. Permanent damage claims!'

Root blinked.

'Commander,' the captain swallowed, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, 'I don't want to do this, sir, but I have orders, sir.'

'On whose orders?'

'Ahm… we… you are being investigated by LEIA.'

'Internal Affairs?'

'Yessir.'

His heart plummeted when he realised how the severe situation looked like. He had to explain everything. He didn't do it; he hadn't beaten Emilien into a breathing bloody pulp. He was quite sure of that.

Thing was, he couldn't remember much of the past few minutes…

'You listen here, and you listen good; we have evidence against you and you'd better cooperate or I swear I'll force it out of you personally.'

Emilien cowered in his seat.

He took a breath, 'Alright… I'll come.'

Root looked away as the cuffs tightened around his offered wrists and closed his eyes.

This can't be happening…

TBC…

Constructive criticism and review appreciated and welcomed!