Rights to Once Upon A Time is held by Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz. Those to Joe 90 by the estate of the late Gerry Anderson, Sylvia Anderson, ITC, etc. Rights to other franchises used are owned by: DC Comics/Warner Bros.; Marvel Comics; NOW Comics/Moonstone Books; the BBC; JK Rowling; Jim Butcher; Charles Addams; Terrance Dicks; Joss Whedon; the estates of Peter O'Donnell, Malcolm Saville, Enid Blyton, and Anthony Buckeridge; amongst others. This is a non-profit attempt to play with favourite franchises.

In mid-2014, a secret conference room, a number of delegates were having a "discussion". Whilst the arrival of a community from one or more other dimensions nearly thirty-one years before was hardly news, the destruction of the Home Office as a viable threat (a major backer and all its senior leadership had apparently disappeared with two of their best agents and, more recently, the agents left behind who had continued to use the name had angered Harry Dresden once too often) had led to an opportunity. Some recordings of Owen Flynn had proved transferrable to a remarkable invention.

The greying blonde man chairing the meeting, slim and wiry, rose to his feet. "Ladies and gentlemen," announced Ilya Kuryakin, "Shane Weston of the World Intelligence Network wishes to speak."

"Hear, hear" responded the lithe dark haired beauty a few seats down. "Those protégés of yours are coming on nicely, Shane. Willie states that Sam is almost to his standards. As to young Joe…"

The tall, muscular man with the Detroit accent opposite nodded. "I agree, Modesty. That kid gave me and Kato quite a challenge last year. It's a good job he caught that arms dealer before he ended up catching the Green Hornet as well."

Amidst much laughter, Weston arose. "My friends, we were able to transfer Mr Flynn's brain patterns to the B.I.G.R.A.T. From now on, this is a Project 90 operation.

"We intend to get our Most Special Agent into the population centre, the town square of what the visitors call Storybrooke. From there, he will assess the situation and, hopefully, allow full diplomatic negotiations to begin."

Warm applause started. Many of them had had serious concerns about using a 9 year old boy, albeit with the brain waves and thus memories and abilities of anyone from an astronaut to a top surgeon, from a concert pianist to a test pilot, from an aquanaut to a general transmitted into his head via the "Rat Trap" of his adopted father Ian McClaine's greatest invention, the Brain Impulse Galvanoscope –Record And Transfer, then maintained via those glasses he wore when on assignment. Knock those spectacles off, however, and he would be useless. Two years ago, that is - he is very able himself at eleven! Weston's Anglo-American deputy Sam Loover had arranged for Joe to have training from a number of legends of the crime-fighting, security and intelligence fields. Even the notoriously grumpy Batman had given him some lessons in martial arts and stealth techniques. He seemed to like the boy, well as much as he liked anyone outside of the "Bat" and "Arrow/Canary" families, Superman, Wonder Woman and a few others of their ilk.

The chairman nodded. Many of the greats of the secret world that keeps everyone safe are here – UNCLE, UNIT, Torchwood, the White Council, SHIELD, SHADO, the W.I.N, IADC, Nemesis, the IMF, the Diogenes Club and many others are represented. Even freelancers like Modesty Blaise and Paul Reid have come – although Modesty works regularly for a variety of British and French departments and Paul is a member of the legendary ruling cabal of the Cobalt Club, not to mention continuing his family's tradition of masked crime-fighting dating back to when John Reid first became the Lone Ranger.

"Just in case," he announced, "Ms Stewart, please stand by to contact your old friend if we need his assistance. Mr Barrett, could you, Ms Macready and Mr Stirling be on standby to provide back-up? You too, Captain Harkness. The same goes for you and Mr Garvin, Ms Blaise. Minister Shacklebolt, your Head Auror will be required, as magical threats are present. Mr Potter's methods can be a little less extreme than his fellow Harry's!

Mr Reid, now that he knows your alter ego is not a gangster, would you and your associate act as liaison for the Council? Also, can you leave for Maine in due course? The Black Beauty would be ideal for an extraction. Thank you!"

"What have you got for me today, Uncle Sam?" asked the freckled boy with sandy hair. Sam Loover, Shane Weston's deputy as director of the W.I.N.'s London branch, had just arrived at Professor Ian McClaine's thatched cottage in Dorset. Mac's adopted son Joseph, at just turned eleven, had been the W.I.N's "Most Special Agent" for almost two years.

"We can discuss this in the laboratory, Joe. Mac, prepare the B.I.G.R.A.T. You two are going on a hike in Maine…"

As the Rat Trap finished spinning and opened with the brain patterns of Owen Flynn now transferred to Joe McClaine, Mac made his usual mutterings about boy miners and chimney sweeps being illegal, but not boy spies. Sam, however, was optimistic that Joe would be able to help devise ways to allow people to locate Storybrooke, before leading his father on "a hiking expedition." There shouldn't be any trouble, as the "visitors" seem peaceful enough. In any event, how long will even Captain Hook last for against Kono Kato or Willie Garvin? Even in a magical duel with Rumpelstiltskin or the Evil Queen, Harry Potter's no amateur and he, like Willie, is fond of Joe.

The chair having now been lowered out of the Rat Trap, Joe is handed his glasses and school briefcase, with its secret compartments for his W.I.N. identity badge, field communicator, back-up glasses, automatic pistol, silencer and spare ammunition. I hope he doesn't need anything other the first two items…

The faux-vintage designed green Jet Air Car landed in the Maine countryside. A lithe masked man in a black chauffer's livery was standing beside a large, equally black sedan a few yards away.

"The boss said you would be here," he noted in a South-East Asian tinged Detroit accent. "Good to see the three of you again".

"Thank you. You too. Where is your employer, anyway?" Mac asked.

"The Green Hornet's at the local base station," Kono Kato replied. "Give us the signal and we'll be ready to roll."

"Thank you, Mr Kato," Sam nodded. "Right, Joe, go in there and befriend the visitors. Use your field communicator to keep in touch. Mac, try and keep him out of trouble. Remember, both of you, be kind to the boy with the book of fairy tales and the scarf and the Evil Queen should not be too much of a problem. I'll look after the car, until we're needed."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam!" Joe raised and lowered the thick, square glasses he was now wearing. "With Mr Flynn's aka Mr Mendel's memories, finding our way in should be easy enough. Come on, Dad!"

"Just relax…" sighed his adoptive father.

Emma Swan looked at Regina Mills. "Oh, two British holiday makers have arrived in town. One's an eleven year old boy, so could you and Henry look after him for a few hours? I can speak to the father."

The mayor shrugged her shoulders at the sheriff. "Sure, how much trouble can a youth be?" Seeing Henry's biological mother's quizzical expression, she grimaced. "This one can't have the heart of the truest believer, can he?"

"No, he can't!" Emma assured her. "He seems a nice, polite, British boy. He is only a year or two younger than Henry. It might be good for him to make a new friend."

Joe was indeed a polite boy, Regina noted happily. The newcomer's occasional tendency to use baffling phrases like "ooh, arrh" and "lovely t'were" aside, he was settling in nicely.

"Do you play 'games' at home, Joe?" asked Henry, pointing to his X-Box.

"I've shot a few bad guys in my time?" I won't mention the real automatic pistol and live ammunition.

"What's your favourite music?" Henry continued.

"I'm partial to traditional folk. The Yetties were my favourite group, until they retired a few years back. Other than that, classical, jazz, pop, anything really. I have played the piano in public before now." Well, I did have access to the brain patterns of a concert pianist at the time. "I also have a particular liking for guitar, synthesizer and saxophone music."

"Mine's soft rock and the standard pop. One Direction, Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez are particular favourites. Their songs are great to listen to when I'm reading my fairy tale book."

Joe managed to conceal his horror. With any other boy of his age, that would be considered soppy. "I prefer historical tales – you know, the biographies of Sir Percy, Dr Syn, Don Diego and the like. I have a particular liking for westerns." OK, they can have romantic episodes, but are basically tales of derring-do.

"Let's go for a walk," Regina suggested.

Joe, seeing the town through both his eyes and Owen Flynn's memories, was feeling somewhat out of his depth. Give me a rogue general or a charismatic but insane cult leader! Harry Potter and Wednesday Addams are the magical experts, not Agent Joe 90 of the W.I.N! Sure, I have worked with Harry and Wednesday before and they are good friends, but they did the magical stuff. Magical power cannot be transferred via brain waves, in the same way the X-Gene can't! You could download Tabitha Stephens' brainwaves into me for a week and still nothing would happen if I twitch my nose, just like Uncle Jack's won't make me immortal or Uncle Richard's super-powered.

"Do you get many tourists where you live, Joe?" Regina asked.

"Not in Culver Bay, other than fossil hunters exploring the Jurassic coast. Most sun worshippers tend to favour Weymouth, Lulworth Cove, Sandbanks or Bournemouth – Studland's got a large naturist beach, if you like that sort of thing. Egdon Heath's further north."

Joe pulled a tablet from his briefcase and showed them some photographs of Culver Bay and their cottage there. Both his hosts seemed impressed with the homely dwelling and the majestic beauty of the Jurassic Coast.

"What does your father do for a living?" his hostess pressed.

"Research scientist. He specialises in brain waves and jet propulsion." True. "Our nearest neighbour is a research chemist in a cottage like ours. In addition, she has her own private island in the bay. Her three cousins and her fellow scientists and so on visit occasionally." Also true. It's probably best not to mention Aunt George's involvement in paranormal research with Uncle Jon and Uncle Jigger.

Suddenly, a balding man walking two Dalmatians walked past. "Good to see you, Doctor Hopper!" called out Henry brightly. "This is our visitor from England, Joe McClaine".

Joe stepped up. Jiminy Cricket? This is weird! "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise". The man stepped up to Regina and said softly "Is he…?"

Regina sighed. "Only if the Home Office, if it still exists, are recruiting pre-teens, Archie!"

Joe had to stifle a laugh. No he wasn't in what was left of the Home Office (although he currently had access to memories from someone who was). W.I.N. (a merger of various NATO, former Warsaw Pact and other intelligence and security services) didn't care what you could or couldn't do, as long as you didn't endanger global security in the attempt. Harry Potter had even invited him, Mac and Sam over for lunch or dinner after some joint cases over the last few months. Teddy Lupin, five years Joe's senior, was disgusted that the W.I.N. didn't habitually recruit children. He's sixteen now. Maybe he can join once he's finished Hogwarts? More likely, he'll follow his godfather into the Auror Department. Shame though, he and Victoire Weasley would make good agents.

Apparently, "a nice tea" was not a regular request at Granny's Diner. Indeed, Ruby had misheard his order as "iced tea". This tepid coloured water is disgusting! She needs to buy herself a hearing aid as, much as, going by Mr Flynn's memories, she needs to buy clothes that do more than just about preserve public decency.

Grace Jefferson and Ava Zimmer were busy telling Joe that, despite his glasses being "seriously uncool", he was "otherwise presentable". What?! Harry Palmer is as cool as anyone! Good teacher too. Henry, meanwhile, was drinking a milkshake, as was Nicholas. Both seemed to be enjoying their beverages. I'll ask for one next time! Goodness only knows what I'll get if I request a jammy dodger or a chocolate hobnob. These cookies are actually tasty, though, so that's not a problem.

Dr Whale came over after speaking to the mayor. Finally, someone from proper literature, not yet another soppy romance! "You are from England, Regina tells me".

More so than you are! "Yes, Dorset. And yourself? Home Counties?"

"Oxford" came the reply. Makes sense. Our world's Frankenstein family are from Switzerland and Germany. Many are educated in the six British ancients though.

Killian Jones also came to have a chat with Regina (Another proper book – we're on a roll!), showing a very Anglo-Irish combination of charm and swagger. I must introduce him to Aunt Modesty. She and Uncle Willie were quite the criminals before they retired, from that life anyway. The Green Hornet and Mr Kato might get on well with him, too. These people are dangerous, sure, but as long as you don't hurt Henry, they're no threat to anyone. That Home Office, or at least their namesakes, are nothing more than a militia with a vendetta against magic rather than non-WASPs. I must send Harry Dresden a congratulations card, as those thugs and their main headquarters were no great loss to the world.

A Scottish voice sounded from behind him, "Another newcomer, dearie?"

Regina nodded. "Mr Gold, this is Joseph McClaine from England. He and his father went on a hike in the forests of Maine and ended up here."

"McClaine? A fine Scottish surname." He then started to sing "Come O'er the Stream Charlie and Dine wi' Maclean."

Joe laughed. "We spell the surname differently, although I believe my father is distantly descended from the Jacobite in question. I'm adopted, he and my late mother couldn't have kids. One day I got separated from the others on an orphanage expedition and stumbled on Dad's new Jet Air Car. They found me there and a few months later I became a McClaine. We live in Dorset, the family settled there after the Highland Clearances. As far as I'm aware, neither of my late natural parents were Scots, although I barely knew them."

Gold smiled, before adding in a tense whisper, "There is something familiar about you. I thought I sensed an old enemy. Whatever it is, dearie, I'll find it out. Don't do anything that harms me or mine now." He gave a sinister half-smile. "Ye don't want me to do something ye might regret, do ye now?"

"Stop scaring everyone, dearie!" Regina told him. "I don't remember any old enemy who resembled Joe. How many old enemies who are still boys have you had? Oh, wait, your father!" She turned to Joe. "That's an old family joke, Joe!"

Joe was silent. Rumpelstiltskin is a genuine threat. I don't think he knows the truth. He can't read minds – can he?

His father, meanwhile, was still talking to Emma Swan down at the Sheriff's Office.

"No, Miss Swan, I do not work with the Home Office. They fund some of my research…"

"What! That evil…"

Mac interrupted her. "What do you have against the Home Secretary of the United Kingdom? Her department is called the Home Office."

"Nothing," Emma groaned. "Not that Home Office!"

"What do you mean?" her 'guest' asked.

Emma changed tack. "You must admit, though, it is odd. We don't get many hikers round here. What are you doing in Maine?"

It was Mac's turn to groan. "We are on holiday. I suppose you think my boy is a superspy working for a major intelligence organisation…?" Never fails – tell the truth in a dry tone and they think you're being sarcastic.

"Of course not, professor. Would you like to stay for a few days?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Henry was rather enjoying having a new friend. Sure, Joe was a couple of years or so younger and rather quiet and reserved. He's used to keeping secrets!

Joe was thinking along similar lines. For a boy who also briefly experienced care and is a year or so older than me, he is unbelievably naïve. You would have thought being kidnapped by the Home Office and carted off to Neverland might have knocked some sense into him. Still, he's pleasant company and has a good heart. I was like that two years ago. Actually, for an Evil Queen, his Mum's really nice. Maybe I should try and set her up with Dad? Vastly better than that ghastly foreign spy who was sent to seduce him a couple of years back.