Sold to Franz Ferdinand

This fffire.

I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table for about 23 minutes now, Julian sitting across from me for those exact 23 minutes. We haven’t spoken a single word. Until now.

“So, uh,” I begin, “you, uh… you come here often?”

“Ah, get it out, will you?” asks Julian, not as pissed off as he should be, considering he’s just been sitting there, looking at me doing nothing except for maybe counting how many stripes are on the table cloth, for the past 23 - now 24 minutes.

“Fine. Why did you follow me here?”

“Dunno. Felt like it,” he coughs, “also, I’m supposed to give you your first task. To prove you are worthy.”

“Oh, okay. What’s the task?” It’s hard to concentrate on the intricate questions I am asking Julian, not because I’m once again re-counting the stripes on the table cloth - they seemingly keep disappearing, there’s been less and less with each attempt at counting - but because there’s this wonderful smell of wood. Almost like a barbeque, if you enjoyed cooking wooden logs.

“Well, first of all, we wanted to test how observant you are,” he coughs again. Did he wake up dry, or dusty? Is he feeling remorse, or even just thirsty? I should bring him a cup. And water.

“And, seeing how you haven’t noticed this room is actually up in flames and we are currently sitting at a table which is on fire, you don’t seem very aware of your surroundings.”

Oh. That explains some things. I start coughing too, but purely out of thirst.

“But, you see, I just showed you my Über Autism skills. I’m incredible at focusing on one thing, in this situation it was unnecessarily counting things, even when my left shoe is on fire,” I tell Julian. He must understand me now.

“Well, Y/N, that is a… a helpful skill, indeed. N-now, how do we stop this f- f- fire? It’s out of control.”

“I see. We don’t want to burn this city, do we?” 

“No, we very much don’t.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something red and tube-shaped and very much containing some fire-extinguishing agent. I walk away from the table, my shoe still on fire, grab the red thing, pull out whichever pins need to be pulled out, point it at the table and, well, spray it. Julian, however, does not budge. He remains seated on his fiery chair, although currently being extinguished with white foam. Luckily he looks quite happy.

“Not to alarm you, but your shoe is still slightly on fire,” Julian reminds me as he scoops some foam away from his face.

I spray my shoe. 

“I think that could’ve gone a lot worse, no?”

“I’m going to have to agree with you on that, Y/N,” says another voice from the door. “This has shown your worth to us.”

In the door frame I see Alex. He looks quite proud of me.

“How so? We almost died here. I was too busy counting stripes.”

“You’ve just proved my point! Your Über Autism is going to help us win this battle against those Vagen bellends!”

"Thank you! I appreciate it, but, uh… isn't this quite questionable, ethically speaking? Julian and I could've died!"

"Nah, no worries, kid. We put a bunch of security cameras in this room specifically for this test."

I look around the room and there are indeed three cameras in three corners. Poor corner without a camera. Well, at least I think there are more than three corners in this room, I haven't counted them yet.

"Huh. Guess I was wrong," I admit, "but what's the Autism good for?"

"Not sure. Just read somewhere it was a superpower." For fuck's sake Alex. Next thing he'll tell me is that he supports Autism Speaks.

We hear rustling coming from outside the kitchen, and Audrey and Paul walk through the door looking slightly alarmed. Audrey starts speaking.

"Guys, I hope the test went well? Ah, fuck, who cares, you're alive and well. We just came from outside 'cause we heard some sirens out and thought someone might have called the emergency services regarding the fire that was taking place in this very kitchen.

"Oh, Jesus, can't I just get to the point already… Well, there weren't any firemen or anything of the sort. The Vagen Wagen was there."

The entire kitchen resonates with the collective gasps produced by Alex, Julian and I. They're probably concerned by that information, meanwhile I just thought it sounded scary and German. What the fuck is a Wagen. 

"Fuck, they found us? No, no, this is actually the worst case scenario right now, how did this happen?" Alex asks, slightly terrified.

"I don't know, Alex, but they fucking did. We've got to relocate now. Fuck this shit, right when we thought we were safe!" Paul, usually calm and collected, is pulling at his hair, pacing around the kitchen. 

I look at Julian, he's biting his nails and staring at one spot on the burnt table cloth.

Audrey looks quite… normal. Unfazed, even. But the way she explained it was far from unbothered.

Alex's demeanour is somewhere in between these three; biting his hair, staring at his nails, yet looking his usual, dandy self.

I look outside the window and see a grey van slowly pull away from the house. Whoever's driving it is glaring right back at me. They seem quite nice, but considering the four musicians in this kitchen are this worried about something outside, the van driver must be a bad person. Nonetheless, I wave at them. They wave back, their brown hair swaying a bit from the force. The van drives off.

Alex, Audrey, Julian and Paul all start staring at me one by one and I feel quite uncomfortable. 

"What's wrong, guys? Why are you all looking at me like that?"