[ WP ] The world 's oldest , most powerful wizard has had enough of his life . After two thousand years of adventure and magic he desires normalcy . Today is his first day at work as a janitor for an office building . He 's determined to fit in and not use his powers . How does it go ?

“ Liiiiisten baby, ain ’ t no mountain high, ain ’ t no valley low, ain ’ t no river wiiiide enough baaaaby, ” I lip-sang in delight, “ if you neeeeeeed me caaalll! ” The mop sloshed on my shoe. The turbid water reeked with the pungent stench of bleach and a varietal medley of chemicals. I began chanting a quick incantation to remedy the spill, but caught myself. *Ahh, no magic Xerl! * *You have leveraged those etheric energies to the pinnacle of human capability, and you have seen the wretched, abject pain you ’ ve caused. No good can come from magic. That was my vow! * I tsk ’ d myself for being so complacent, but only slightly. I mean really—it is my first day! I can ’ t be that rough on myself. 
 
 I could still feel the tempest coursing through my veins, trying to escape the dimensional confines to be released into our world. So many who tried to follow in my footsteps, both acolytes and foes, had begged me for my secrets—they would scream, and plead, “ How do you control the magical currents with such ease?! What do I do to reach your level? ” 
 
 
 My secret sauce: rhyming. I ’ ve seen others try to emulate my style of invocation, thinking it was but one of the factors that enabled my facility with the mystic, but they always lacked any sense of the verbiage. One must truly **rhyme**. 
 
 But those things are past me. Now, I mop. My name badge proudly bears my assumed identity: Bernard. I pronounce it ‘ burr-nerd ’ to be different. It may just be the way my brain processes language. Who knows. I reached down with a generic brand paper towel and began pointlessly trying to diffuse the chemicals and water from my camel colored jumpsuit. Pointless towels. They crumble and defy my will, only moments after connecting with the foul liquid. Blasted. Life without magic may be mildly more difficult than I had first anticipated. 
 
 Crack. Crack. Thud. 
 
 The noises startle my cleaning. I am on the night shift, and I am the only janitor. I should be here alone, and yet, my ears are notifying me that I am—in fact—not. I grunt as I set the mop back into the liquid and stroll down the corridor to find the offending noise maker. The front door was unhinged and laying splayed on the floor, as a fallen beast. A metallic apparatus was wired meticulously along the mechanical construct designed to detect illicit intrusions, and it seemed to have precluded the alarm from sounding. *Hmm*. 
 
 Three men walk into the room. They are dressed from the bottom up in a matte-black body suit, plates of some thick, resistive material coating the broad flat surfaces of their forms. Clips of chemical projectiles shrouded in metal alloys adorn their chests, complementing the slender forms of the mechanical projectors. Guns, I believe. I ’ d never learned much about them, save how to keep modern technology from harming me ( laughably easy, to be quite honest ). “ We ’ re in, ” grunted the lead man into his radio. I was still standing in the middle of the hall, barely 15 yards in front of them. They hadn ’ t noticed me, yet. 
 
 “ Wills, you gather the equipment bags while Smith and I get to the security room, we are going to… ” his voice trailed off. He was looking straight at me. His weapon leveled evenly with a cool, swift motion, “ Who the fuck are you? Hands up. ” I curled my fingers, and I took a two steps forward. The lead man eyed my badge as it caught the illumination. “ Ah, George—the night janitor? I thought it was supposed to be Juan. ” He looked back at the man I believed to be Wills. “ You fuck. How ’ d we not know about this guy? ” Wills shrugged. 

