Parisian Nightmares

Our Missing Friend

Luna POV

Alyssa had asked Amadora to take the letter to the tall, burly guy with a crew cut. We both turned to Amadora, expecting her to be in her Gucci outfit, (because she's hella rich, matey) ready to be on the go, as usual.
What took us by surprise was she wasn't even there. There was an empty space where she had been standing.

"Wheres Ama?" Alyssa and I asked at the same time.

"Really? I thought you knew where she was going," we said again, in unison.

"Stop copying me," we both said again.
She jumped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Siriusly," she said, "where is Amadora?"

I shook my head. "I put a tracker in her phone in case she got lost like last time in Hawaii, but it doesn't seem like it's working. It's staying in the same spot."

"Well good thing, I bought a GPS tracker and I put in her yoghurt. It's inside her now." Alyssa gave a creepy grin.

"You, Madam Poopie, are a psychopath."
"High functioning sociopath, do your research," she shrieked back.

"Why are you so obsessed with Sherlock?"

"Cut to the chase, Luna, Ama is moving and she's moving fast. THE GAME IS ON!" Apple Poohead grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me all the way around Paris.

.•*•.

"Should we split up?" I asked Alyssa.

She bent over,screeching.

An hour later, Alyssa and I had tailed Amadora's movement without avail.

"Shes not anywhere!" I wheezed, hugging my chest. My lungs felt like they were going to rupture and explode.

"If we can't see her then she's obviously-" Alyssa gasped for air, then continued, " -underground."

"I'm not a mole, you old bat."

"You don't have to. Amas location is right under ours. We're standing on a manhole."

"Oh."

After tons of work, we finally pried the cover off of the manhole. I slipped my legs in first before realizing that there wasn't a ladder to hold on to. I shone a flashlight into the hole. It was a big drop. If I had just spontaneously jumped in, I would've had broken both of my legs, maybe my arms too, and probably fracture my skull as a bonus.

"I have a rope." My know it all friend dropped a rope into the pit and tied it to a secure lamppost, knotting it with three loops before standing up and grabbing the rope, slipping her legs into the manhole like I had done previously.

"See ya downstairs," she called, as she shimmied down the rope.

"Show off." I grumbled. I slid down the rope after her.

It seemed like a few minutes before we got to the bottom. My arms and legs chafed against the rope. Curse this stupid fricture-causing rope.

Finally, the soles of my feet felt solid ground. I took the flashlight out of my pocket and illuminated the passage we were now in. "Your arms and legs are red," said Alyssa.

"Whatever," I replied. "it's just your rope."

"Let's go," I said, rushing off into the tunnel, leaving Alyssa to the assassins waiting to chop our elbows off.

The both of us entered a circular room, lit with a single oil lamp which emitted a warm yellow glow. Ama was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle, eyes screaming, "LLAMA CABBAGE AND APPLE POOHEAD, GET ME OUT OF HERE."

Her head shook frantically. I stepped forward. My footstep resonated through the circular chamber. It sounded hollow.

A tall, stocky man in a vest with a large gash over his chest came into the chamber. Alyssa and I screeched like pterodactyls.

"I have a knife, I have some scissors. Boom, a cheerful corpse."

"Don't test him, you bum head," I hissed at her. He could be a karate master or the leader of a gang.

"What do you want," spoke Alyssa in a voice which commanded the man to drop and give us fifty thousand and twenty two.

"Leave our friend alone, we have done nothing to you," I continued, making sure to be polite. "I thought we were going for the strong, mean bunch of bums look," whispered Alyssa out of the corner of her mouth. "No, shut up," I whispered.

The man opened his mouth. But the voice that escaped it was very much a female's one. It sounded like nails scratching across chalkboards.

"Alyssa Phoenix. Luna Romien Cahill."

"We know our own names, lady from Tartarus-slash-gangster bub underground," screeched Alyssa. Somebody should tell her not to screech at a gangster.

"

Piss off and leave my friends alone."

"Language, dearie. Just to remind you, you'll meet some other 'friends' in a very short time. Toodle-ooo!" Said the man in a very unmanly way. He dissipated into smoke, and we ran over to free Amadora.

"Who's going to carry her?" I asked. "I may have an idea," gloobered Alyssa, stomping her feet madly.

We tied Ama into a harness on the rope, then, carefully avoiding her, we climbed up first. Then we yanked her up along with the rope like the enormous turnip.

When she was lying on the ground peacefully, and I felt like we might just finally get a break and go sightseeing and EAT FOOD,  a pair of calloused hands clamped over my mouth, and I remembered the 'friends' the underground man had mentioned, and a sense of horror washed through me like an unstoppable tide. I blacked out.

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