February 2015

Hello. This is Rex Milligan reporting for The Quibbler. My source, Jigger or Johnson, J.I.G. as he was listed on the register back at Sheldrake Grammar School, told me that the former Evil Queen from Snow White (the one with the Seven Dwarves, not the one who was Rose Red's sister, for those who have their fairy tales confused) was going to be making a speech to the United Nations (the muggle White Council). Thinking him less than entirely sober, I called him an addle-pated clodpoll and suggested he go easy on the bitter. Then I heard the same from a well-placed source in the World Intelligence Network (a sort of international body of Aurors, for those wizards not au fait with the muggle security and intelligence services), the said lady having come into our world about thirty years ago, bringing most of Storyland with her. Following a hush-hush operation against some fanatics sent by those ossified oiks from the so-called Home Office, it was all arranged for Storyland to enter the real world, as it were. It is almost like "When a knight won his spurs" in reverse, if you follow me (or know the old hymn by Jan Struther, the one that's sung to the tune of "Sweet England" and got trotted out each St George's Day back at Sheldrake). Finally, Harry Potter confirmed this. Seeing as he is the last wizard to invent stories (the scars on the back of his hand from that nasty quill have given him a reputation for honesty and integrity – however many years that woman got, it was some twenty years too few if you ask me), I decided to take the matter seriously.

So here I am in the Gay Dolphin Hotel in Rye, in the old smugglers' secret room in the attic. This is now Jon Warrender's communications centre for the Paranormal Investigations Bureau. This was set up with the assistance of the Diogenes Club (a gentleman's club which deals with unearthly threats to the realm) and affiliated to the American Federal Bureau of Investigations' "X-Files Division" (American muggle Aurors who investigate the supernatural) and Scotland Yard's Department of Queer Complaints. Perhaps that last one should change its name, as it sounds like a division of homophobes. Not that I can complain, they did set me on the path of that yeti in Tooting and that haunted house. Oh wait, the latter was faked – I should have known from the second Mystery Inc. turned up that, after a couple of searches for clues and an unlikely trap, the 'ghost' would turn out to be a caretaker with a Halloween costume and a grudge. Good fun, though – that Daphne's a superb reporter, albeit the most jeopardy-friendly person I have ever met. It's also good that the Quibbler's editorial staff does not feature Tony Vincenzo – unlike the original Karl Kolchak, I have no desire to be fired and rehired five times in twenty minutes on a daily basis, even when a ghost is genuine. Mind you, I suppose he had no desire to be fired either.

Jon is setting things up, that mane of untidy blonde hair unchanged from way back when. His wife Penny is providing drinks to me and Richard Morton of the Clarion. Richard's here as a scribe for the Bureau. The Clarion has a less exclusive readership than the Quibbler. We are not available in any decent newsagent, unless said shop is in Diagon Alley. Come to think of it, do they sell the Clarion in any wizard stores? It's a good read. James Wilson, their editor, has printed some of my own exploits in the past. Don't worry, I wrote nothing that broke the Statute of Secrecy. Richard's Romany wife Fenella is sitting next to him, drinking a rich claret. George is bouncing up and down in glee. Honestly, she still acts like the schoolboy she never was, if you catch my drift. Jigger is playing with Ranji, the monkey he rescued from a cruel barrel-organist back in the Fourth Form. Whilst he is rather less freckle-nosed and inky-fingered these days, my red-headed best mate is still useless in a beauty competition, not that he would enter one. Richard's elder brother David is Skyped (a sort of muggle mirror-call) in from Witchend in Shropshire. That celebrated lone pine in the grounds is still standing, by the way. Ah, the old days! The Lone Pine Club, the Famous Five, the Secret Seven and so on. To think that youngsters could chase criminals – now, I wouldn't want any grandchildren of mine pursuing terrorists and drug smugglers. Whatever happened to the days when it was art and jewellery thieves, blackmailers and foreign spies? We caught a couple of felons at Sheldrake too, you know. Personally, I blame Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, the Bobbsey Twins and the rest of their ilk. They set us all a bad example.

The Baker Street Irregulars, another bunch of former child sleuths, were running a live feed from New York via Old Park House and forwarding it to East Sussex and Shropshire. Dan Robinson, still being on friendly terms with the owner Sir Jasper Ryde after helping him out with an art robbery and a fake haunting, has now turned his fellow not so juvenile detectives into a high-tech detective agency, now based in an a converted out-building at the old manor house. He still uses the logic he learned from reading Dr Watson's accounts of his own great-grandfather's adventures and after whose team of "Street Arabs" he named his own group. Funnily enough, Dan didn't know about his ancestry at the time – it was only when he met his first cousin a couple of times removed Sir Dennis Nayland Smith much later that he learned the truth.

"We should be ready in time for the address," Dan promised. Tall, slim and dark, he looked like a less hook-nosed version of Great-Granddad Sherlock. The fair-haired duo (now a married couple) of Jeff and Liz were busy in the background, with Mickey at least trying to look occupied. Actually, given that all of the Lone Pine Club not in this room are visible behind David in Witchend and I can see George's cousins with Dan and company, this is almost young detectives reunited. Maybe Jig should have asked the likes of Boko, Alfie and Staggers to bolster the Old Sheldrakian presence (not that either Dan or Jon would have let the latter anywhere near their computers and other gadgets)? Failing that, he could have brought the battered old bath towel with "Sheldrake for Ever" written in red paint across it that served as our flag in mock battles with the Secondary Tech, or Junior Colts rugger matches with the same. Ye olde banner must be little more than a tattered napkin these days.

Before you could say "Fossilised Fishhooks!" the inside of the relevant secret "closed" chamber in the UN Headquarters in New York came into view. A beautiful brunette was standing near the podium, being introduced by the Secretary General (the United Nations "merlin"). This is Regina Mills, the former Evil Queen. She seems harmless enough, but per Harry Potter can stick her hand into your chest, remove your heart and use it to control, torture and/or even kill you. She sounds like the Birk in a bate! Rest in peace, Mr Birkinshaw. I would never have started in journalism without you.

Anyway, here she is, getting up to talk. I'll let you read it in her words.

Unaware of the Quibbler's muggle correspondent watching from East Sussex, Regina grinned nervously as she stood at the microphone. Henry and Emma were in the front row, with a number of her new friends seated around the hall. Jack Harkness was sitting with Kate Stewart of UNIT, whilst Diana was in her civilian identity running security with the IADC. Wednesday Addams was leading an Auror detail, Natasha Romanoff a SHIELD team and Craig Sterling a Nemesis one. Finally, Mac and Joe were sitting next to Henry and Emma. The W.I.N.'s Most Special Agent was giving his friend an encouraging smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Regina began, "I came to this world, uninvited, as I can now admit to myself as well as others. I was on a several decade case of PMT, trying to get my own happily ever after, largely by stopping everyone else from getting theirs. The fact that there might be people here already, including wizards and mutants, aliens and meta-humans, had never occurred to me. For that, I am truly sorry.

"The attempts on us Storybrooke folk led by agents of the so-called Home Office would have led to me treating any approach with caution. To the gallant defenders who risked their lives against our foes, know that the people of Storybrooke are forever in your debt. You are all hereby made honorary citizens of Storybrooke and shall be issued with medals for bravery in due course.

"When the director of Nemesis asked me to establish proper diplomatic relations, I agreed. It is time to join this brave new world. A world that was nowhere near as lacking in magic and other powers as I had believed.

"With this speech, I announce I am signing the agreements to make us a full, albeit unofficial, member of the United Nations and other world organisations.

"Thank you."

As the applause rang out throughout the hall, Regina took the UN Secretary General's hand and shook it firmly.

Once again, she saw Joseph McClaine smiling his encouragement.

Another successful mission for the W.I.N.'s Most Special Agent. Storybrooke was now a recognised entity in this world.

Late March 2015

"What has been going on in the World of Men, Auntie Di?" asked Princess Athena of Themyscira. She was the daughter of Diana's younger sister Drusilla, who had been the first Wonder Girl back in the Second World War.

"Well, darling," the superheroine began, "your Auntie Donna and I have been dealing with the usual threats to world peace. Mind you, I did save a bunch of genuine characters from fairy tales some months back."

"Ooh, tell me more!"

Diana explained about Storybrooke to her niece.

"So, this Henry Mills, what is he like?"

Her Aunt smiled. "About your age, his early-to-mid teens. He promises to be quite handsome in a couple of years' time." She produced a tablet and showed her niece some photographs. "Why?"

"Get your best dress out, Auntie!" Athena smiled determinedly. "I must marry this Prince Henry of Storybrooke!"

"What!" Diana exclaimed in shock. "You've never met him! I thought that you wanted to meet any boy your grandmother arranged for you to marry first."

"Where else am I going to find a fairy tale prince, Auntie? They don't exactly grow on trees!"

"He certainly sounds like the ideal father for my great-grandchildren!" agreed Queen Hippolyta. "Tell his mothers' that they must agree to the marriage, or it will be war between them and Themyscira."

"They have put extra security measures in place!" Diana replied anxiously. "You can't enter now without seeing a magic scroll, which is in Storybrooke. In any case, they don't seem to be the people who would agree to only having daughters, who will be raised on an island that they can't visit. I've seen Emma Swan and particularly Regina Mills in battle. They are formidable enemies. Do you want her heart crushed? That is, literally crushed!"

"Well," her mother announced, "The peoples of this world must decide whether they would side with the people of Storybrooke or us Amazons! Prepare for potential war!"

Diana looked at her other younger sister Donna, the second Wonder Girl and now using the nom de guerre of Troia, who stared back at her with an alarmed look on her face. Something seemed off with their fellow Amazons. Whilst a warrior race, they were not normally so aggressive without good cause. Also, whilst apparently straight, Athena had showed no such extreme desires for any boy in the past. She also seemed to prefer muscular action men to bookish dreamers, however potentially handsome they may be. Since both Donna and her had agreed, prior to their regular visits to the World of Men, that any children that either had were to be excluded from the direct succession to the throne, they and their potential spouses did not have to drink the Waters of the Spring of Artemis to ensure all offspring from that union was female. These girls would then be raised on Themyscira without any influence from the paternal side of the family, even the females. Not that my mother would be mad enough to fight Clark for any future offspring of ours. He is much too powerful for her, particularly with both me and Lois for cheerleaders. The same goes for any children Roy and Donna may have. There seems to be something in the atmosphere in Themyscira. Someone is up to something. Who is it? What are they up to? How are they doing it? Most importantly of all, why?

To be continued in "Storybrooke and Amazons."