New Zealand architect Jonathan Smith worked with a cabinetmaker to carefully deconstruct part of this 1890s home in Auckland, then assembled a set of automatic doors as well as a moving fence to conceal a brand new garage space, all expertly retrofit into the historic structure.

The result is a high-level work of camouflage, preserving the exterior look and feel of the house while creating a James Bond-worthy disguise for the reappropriated space. Inside, a lift hoists one car up to make room for a second as well.

“We wanted to retain the character from the street so we cut through the joinery units to create two doors and then lined up the boards so you wouldn’t know,” explains the designer, who is also founder of Matter Architects.

Inside, a similar attention to historical details coupled with Modern refinements can also be found, with preserved brick surfaces complimenting new steel and glass elements. The garage, while central to the redesign, is just one of the tricks this house is now home to.

Out back, fresh treatments and extensions create a modern garden landscape, complete with outdoor fireplace as well as linear, structured wood and concrete space-shaping elements.

Not every pub in London has a spying room complete with binoculars so patrons can gaze into the windows of the British Intelligence Service across the street – nor does just any old pub have a historic basement so creepy and rife with strange activity that the owners have set up a CCTV system just to keep an eye on it. The Morpeth Arms is definitely one of a kind, used as a prison and transfer facility for inmates waiting to be shipped off to Australia before its conversion into a business.

If you think this sounds like a publicity schtick to get more tourists to spend fists full of quid on burgers and ale, you’re not far off, but there’s a layer of fascinating history beneath the hype. Built in 1845, this public house at 58 Millbank in London’s Pimlico district was originally established as a deportation facility. A tunnel system running beneath the city streets carried convicts from the old Millbank prison to a holding area beneath the pub, while they waited for transportation to whisk them away. The prison itself, which featured six wings attached to a central chapel like the petals of a flower, closed in 1890 and was ultimately demolished.

The basement isn’t open to the public, but customers can see into it via a live feed on a prominently placed monitor, over a sign reading ‘Can you see the haunted prisoner?’ According to Atlas Obscura, employees have reported glimpses of inexplicable movement, items going missing and a general sense of unease. The beer barrels are kept in the area beside the former cells, which are just dank, mildewy rooms off the arched brick tunnels.

The tongue-in-cheek spying room, meanwhile, really does look in on MI6. It has its own bar, a Mata Hair theme and is, unsurprisingly, often packed full of actual spies from across the street, who sometimes bring members of the FBI with them. So, fair warning, if you’re running from the Feds, find ye another pub on Millbank to patronize.

Deep in Turkey’s biggest body of water, Lake Van, a secret fortress lay dormant for thousands of years, discovered recently by a team of university archaeologists following local rumors of a submerged structure.

Headed by Tahsin Ceylan, a group from Van Yüzüncü Yil University discovered this Iron Age marvel spanning over a half-mile deep below the surface, with walls stretching up to 13 feet above the bed of the lake.

What remains is a mixture of fallen stone piles and persistent structural surfaces dating back around 3,000 years to a time when the lake’s surface would have been hundreds of feet lower.

Overtime, the lake levels rose and the regional kingdom that existed as far back as the eight century BCE was to presumed to have been based in this area, and possibly this building compound.

In the wake of this discovery, researchers aim to revisit the site and begin to dig below the subsurface sediment in order to learn more about the kingdom and see just how deep this mystery really goes.

Modernist architects rejected brick, stone and iron ornament in favor of clean metal and brutalist concrete, and in some extreme cases went so far as to cover up old facades with more contemporary cladding. But what was originally an act of erasure can also turn into an unintentional act of preservation, as in the case of this structure built in the 1920s but clad over in the 1960s.

This drab building in San Antonio, Texas was at best unremarkable and at worst a bit of an eyesore. White stripes and vertical strips of red worked with rows of glass to create something simple, Modern and a bit dull. It was also somewhat misleading: many of those apparent windows were covering up walls, not openings. All of this became clear as the surface started to be stripped away and old structure restored.

Echoing a similar trend in recent decades of stripping back paint to reveal wooden details in homes, developers and cities have started to realize the potential value in hidden landmark architecture. The Schoenfield Building in Cleveland, for instance (depicted above), was a beautiful structure built of brick but for a time covered in a less glamorous coat. Its underlying facade has since been uncovered.

In the case of the Odean theater, it is hard to imagine what ever possessed someone to cover the elaborate facade of the original (upper left) with its decorative details and beautiful windows with an array of vertical metal strips (upper right). Fortunately, though the name has changed, the architecture has since been restored (bottom).

The decision is not always so clear-cut, however. Architectural Observer followed the restoration of a structure in Hays, Kansas where “there was a push to ‘restore’ and ‘revitalize’ the immediate downtown area. The master plan called for the removal of this particular facade.”

“Much history was lost in the redevelopment process; should this facade be counted among the losses?  Or do you feel that the two early 20th-century facades (both needing restoration) which were revealed are the stronger asset?” It is a question that often faces preservationists, especially in places like Europe where long histories can result in many iterative additions and changes over time. In this case, the facade was removed but saved. To see more examples like these and discussion about historic preservation, check out this thread on reddit.

A sports car parked in a residential alley, train emerging from a tunnel and helicopter landing next to the Colosseum are all believable sights in Italy’s capital … except in this case they are constructed from LEGO.

Italian photographer Domenico Franco imagines these block-built vehicles at human scale in his series LEGO Outside LEGOLAND, masterfully faked scenes of photo-realistic quality.

In his series, normal conveyances are swapped with LEGO creations that stand out as simplified block forms against the rich historical fabric of Rome.

While some are clearly toys writ large, others are more convincing: a passing glance at a tractor trailer doing road work might not immediately belie its fictional origins.

Landmark buildings and aged cobblestone roads come alive thanks to the contrast created by intervening toys. Ordinary gray-blue weather and aged architecture seems even more real than in a normal photograph.

“The aim is to transform ordinary contexts in extraordinary ones,” says the artist, “thus compelling the toys to get out of the idyllic and politically correct landscapes belonging to their perfect and idealistic cities, with the result of instilling in them those vices, virtues and desires typical of human beings.”