( dctv - historical au ) her big scoop
Title: the big scoop
Fandom: DCTV
Universe: Historical AU
Relationships: Barry Allen / Iris West
Summary: One scoop. That's all Iris needs to prove her mettle - and she knows that if she goes to the World's Fair, she'll find one there.
Notes: Written as part of an AU Yeah August Challenge, this was a present for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6. I hope you enjoy it, friend! It was a lot of fun to write, even as it challenged me at the best of times. The historical time period took a lot of cues from Code: Realize, and can be read as an AU set in that universe as well, should the reader choose.
The World's Fair was opening today, and Iris wouldn't miss it for the world. True, a 75-mile long festival to showcase scientific achievement, agricultural innovation, and a centennial celebration of American prowess wasn't her idea of a grand time. On a good day, much less an ordinary one, she could barely comprehend her best friend's scientific mutterings. Yet this exhibition held an unspoken promise of a scoop - a real one, not just the puff pieces of "human interest" that dominated the local news.
One scoop. That was all Iris needed to prove her mettle. Even the Chief couldn't ignore the facts brewing underneath the Fair's glitz and glamour.
See, Iris wasn't an official reporter yet. Central City Picture News had explicitly hired her for her coffee brewing rather than news hitting, but a woman could dream. She just needed a ticket and a man who could translate complicated jargon into layman's terms.
Luckily for her, her best friend Barry Allen had both in spades.
“I still can't believe you're here with me,” he was telling her with exuberant joy as they walked through the Fair's entrance and received their designated wristbands. “What made you change your mind?”
A story, she wanted to say, but Barry's intuition was sharper than a tack.
Instead of giving him that smug satisfaction she would never live down, she latched onto his arm. “You.”
He blinked back genuine surprise, “Me?”
Poor Barry's cheeks flushed a bright red that rivaled his scarf as he held onto her hand. His chest brushed up against her shoulders as they moved forward into the crowd, and for once, he grew silent.
Her chatterbox, silent! Iris couldn't believe it, even as she craned her head to look at him better.
“Yes, you,” she tried to reassure him. “If I didn't want to be here, I would've stayed home, and then who would you have shared this marvel with?”
Barry laughed, his expression softening as he leaned into her. “Mm… Cisco and Caitlin? We’ve talked about going for months now.”
That didn’t surprise her. Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin had worked under Dr. Harrison Wells at S.T.A.R Labs downtown for several years now, and for as long as Iris could remember, they were as thick as thieves. No experiment or quandary was too big or small for their scientific investigation team. Each held a scientific expertise that filled in the others' gaps: Barry with chemistry, Cisco with physics, and Caitlin with biology and human anatomy. Dr. Wells, in turn, was well-versed in all three disciplines, and his daughter Jesse was quickly shaping up to be the same.
Knowing Cisco and Caitlin, they were scouring the fairgrounds with a sense of purpose. An urgency, if Iris willed, to see everything before the end.
Iris's aimless walking, in comparison, guaranteed little. She paused, glancing up to look for the nearest booth for maps and further information and holding onto her press badge tighter. It wasn't hers, technically, but a dunce like Mike wouldn't miss it anytime soon.
“I much prefer your company, however,” Barry was saying, following her towards the small booth distributing maps and bottles of water.
Iris grinned, weaving them through groups of people, “Because I remind you of your intelligence and wit?”
“What? No, of course not.” Barry's laugh was warm and rich - light enough to melt the slight pockets of snow that had lingered on the fairgrounds. “As marvelous as that makes me feel, I realized you're not as engrossed as we are. When I see you interacting with the exhibits and watching these demonstrations, I feel like I'm learning everything all over again. You've - you carry a sense of wonder around you, Iris. I wish I could unlearn everything so that we could share that together.”
How could he say something so sweet with such a straight, loving face? Iris groaned into his shoulder, “You're so unfair.”
“We're husband and wife, Iris. I'm allowed to be unfair.”
She leaned into his side, struggling to hide the groan that would otherwise escape her lips. Her husband meant so well - he was full of quiet, loving devotion, and even the worst of his wordplay was intended to see her smile. He spoke from the heart, something with which she still struggled.
Perhaps that was partially why she had relented, and had asked to accompany him to his most favorite place on Earth. It was high time (story or no) that she saw the world through his eyes.
The fair had erected several palaces around Central City in honor of the Fair, with lofty ideals inhabiting each and every one of them. Barry and Iris wandered through the Palace of Electricity and marveled at its new, portable cameras and ingenious electric lights–
“–the entire building,” Barry was saying, with awe in his voice as he pressed them up against the ropes separating them from the display. “The entire fair has hundreds of these bulbs! Look at the filament, Iris! They could last forever.”
“Impressive,” she had to admit, her breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell onto Barry.
His awe was reflected on the glass reflection of each and every bulb. Even though Barry stood taller than most of the men in the room, he felt like a kindergartner, ready to soak up the next lesson or three.
“The placards are saying they all have tungsten,” Barry was murmuring. “I’ve never seen anything so bright.”
“Tungsten?”
Her confusion must’ve spoken for her, because Barry quickly elaborated, “Light bulbs get cloudy if they’re lit too long. They fog up because they’re made with carbon, which… well, cloud glass in a closed space. These, however, remain crystal clear.”
Not a smudge in sight. Iris nodded as she pressed the camera.
Its brilliant light flashed in their faces. Yet the momentary interruption (the immortalized, beloved photo of his awe) failed to deter Barry’s attention. She laughed as she squeezed his hand, leaving only when he felt ready to move on.
The Palace of Machinery was next, with its tall metal tower greeting them from the outside. Iris drew a sharp breath upon seeing it and its observation deck, before weaving through the crowds. Once they twisted through the lines, wall-to-wall displays of scientific prowess greeted them.
“Whoa,” Barry’s breath hitched as he stared ahead at the nearly ten-feet tall computers in front of them. “Even S.T.A.R doesn’t have this many in one room. That looks like… is that even possible?”
Iris looked back at him, squeezing his hand. “What’s possible?”
“That machine claims it can transmit wireless messages to Metropolis and Star City,” Barry whispered in her ear, his gaze never leaving the illuminated machines. “If that’s true, we’ll never need a telegram again.”
He had to be kidding. Telegrams were the lifeblood of the post office, and even Cisco’s most sophisticated invention - the aether transmitter - required proximity to another device. A wireless machine, capable of transmitting messages long-distance?
She craned her head to stare at the display, and at the eager-eyed men and women instructing their companions on how to use such a marvel. How sound could travel across vast distances, she couldn’t begin to imagine - yet the idea excited her to the core.
“We should try it,” she encouraged, giving his hand another squeeze. “Give me something to write for the Picture.”
“Of course.” Barry’s expression softened as he led her forward. “Besides, we can send a line to Kara and Jimmy. See how they’re doing in Metropolis.”
Iris nodded, “Sure. I’m sure they’d like that.”
Frankly, someone like Jimmy Olsen seemed too knowledgeable to miss news about wireless messages, but he was also kind enough to appreciate the effort. Her fellow journalists would understand her desire to get the next big scoop.
Once they reached the front of the line, a representative of the US Patent Office greeted them and inquired about their intended message and recipients. His square, thick-rimmed glasses, combined with the harsh glint of the Palace's lights, hid his upper half of his face, and his suit was a garish shade of green that wouldn't have been out of place in the circus. Everything else about him had been nondescript at the time - dark hair, maybe? Pale complexion, like half of Central?
Iris supposed she shouldn't have judged; government officials often had less sense, and scientist or legal types doubly so. Then again, he seemed unusually stiff. Maybe he wasn't a public-facing employee? Unused to talking to others?
As Barry explained the finer details, Iris took a mental snapshot of the scene. To their left, elevators leading attendees to the observation deck were leaving every few minutes; to their right, the museum displays of machinery stretched further than the eye could see. All of it left her speechless.
“We’re ready,” Barry called, interlacing his fingers with hers and snapping her back to reality.
The green-suited representative led them into a room the side of a closet and flicked a few switches to begin the transmission. There were no fibers or cables, as the pamphlets had explained; just machines that could somehow transmit sound across space and time.
Barry stood in front of a microphone and relayed a simple message (“Hi Kara and Jimmy. Stop. Iris and I are at the World Fair. Stop. Wish you were here with us!”) before stepping back.
The microphones were switched off. The lights also dulled, their once-fierce yellow turning a dusty ash.
Iris blinked; everything in the room felt so much bleaker. Candlelight, at least, was warm and radiant. These bulbs were cloudy and foggy, darkening everything in its path.
“Hm…” She tugged on Barry’s sleeve. “I think we made a mistake. The lights aren’t working.”
“They’re supposed to switch off once we’re done,” Barry idly commented as he pulled out his wallet.
Iris sighed, “Not quite what I meant.”
The representative raised an eyebrow at her; however, Iris chose to ignore it while Barry procured payment.
As Barry’s Flash ring brushed against the other man’s knuckles to exchange the hard-earned cash, the green-suited man’s face melted into a dangerous smirk.
Barry paused. “Hartley?”
“I thought I recognized you, Bartholomew,” the man murmured, counting each individual bill with an unusual calm. “Pity this will be the last thing you see.”
The entire room seemed to vibrate – no, her ears were ringing as the man pulled out a flute from his sleeve and blew. The sharp note hurt. God, it hurt. The dark, foggy lights shook, and everything started to darken.
Iris clung to the table, the edge of her vision catching an all-too familiar red-and-yellow streak of light wrapping around her arms.
His voice was low, “Hang on,” right before the entire world spun together.
Iris squeezed her eyes shut as she clung onto Barry. Her nails dug into his leather suit, and even this close, she could sense his racing heartbeat. He screeched to a halt. Her head was still spinning and throbbing, her ears popping from the suddenness of it all.
Screams erupted from behind; footsteps pounded as dozens of people scampered out of line. The soft, annoying pitch of a flute remained. The melody only irritated her further.
The Palace may be deserted, but they may not be alone. A lone straggler or two may still hide beneath the fine machinery (as hard as it was for Iris to imagine).
One annoyance at a time. Iris clung to Barry, even as she climbed down and forced her heels to dig into the firm earth underneath.
“The Pied Piper?” she mouthed. She wouldn’t let a mere scoundrel ruin her scoop. “We get this far, and a Rogue like the Pied Piper tries to trap us in the transmission room?”
Barry - no, the Flash sighed, rubbing his arms as he glanced up at the hundreds of light bulbs. “I should have guessed. This exhibition is the talk of the town - the perfect opportunity for Hartley to steal something under our very noses.”
Iris paused, standing up on her tip-toes.
“Wait. Bar-Flash…”
He peered back at her. “Yes?”
“You said the bulbs were made from tungsten, and therefore, don’t smudge the glass?”
“Right. They’re revolutionary, just like most of the marvels we’ve seen all day and–” The Flash followed her gaze, his brow furrowing. “Oh. I see now.”
“I’m guessing it wouldn’t have been very hard to lie, or fool the local patent office with a fake ID card.”
“No, especially not for someone with Hartley’s connections.”
Iris reached for a spare portable camera, holding it up to the light and pressing the button to make it flash. While she wasn’t an expert on such marvels, she knew a foul stench when she saw one.
The Flash frowned, “You think he knew they were fake?”
“Either that, or he thought we knew.” Iris held the wet film out, flapping it in the air to help it dry faster. “Which we do now.”
“I have to find him.”
“Not by yourself,” Iris chided lightly, tying up her hair and tidying up her outfit.
He peered up at her, with an unspoken question on his lips–
“Together.” Iris’s smile felt more like a smirk as she reached out for the Flash’s hand. “You fight; I’ll make sure the world hears his confession.”
Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin leading children to their death, the Rogue had led them to the very roof of the Place. The unsteady, thin material of the roofing gave Iris considerable pause.
At the time, when the press releases had been made public, the very idea of a temporary building had been noteworthy and economical. Central City couldn’t afford a permanent Palace that stretched around its borders.
Now, with her and the Flash standing opposite a flute-playing Rogue, its transience terrified her. Iris steadied herself and her camera with a deep breath, pressing the button to capture the scene.
(She must’ve had dozens of images by now, but these would be the most crucial. The most important for her big scoop.)
“It’s over, Piper,” Flash screamed over the shrills of the flute.
The Piper merely smiled as he lowered his instrument. “I couldn’t hear you, Flash. What were you saying?”
“I said, it’s over.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started.” The Piper’s lips curled up in the imitation of a smile as he pressed his flute to his lips.
The Flash lunged. Before the Flash could snatch it, the very foundation between Flash and Piper crumbled. The material tumbled to the ground, snapping floors beneath it in half – all the way back down to terra firma.
Iris took a step back, watching as her red-and-yellow blur zoomed around Piper. Her camera couldn’t capture the Flash. In fact, that distinctive yellow - like the flash of a camera - was how he had earned his name, all those years ago.
Yet it could capture the Piper, pushing back against the Flash with sonic waves, falling down to Earth and taking the Flash and Iris down with him –
wait, Iris was going to go down too.
“Piper!” Iris pushed through, ignoring the shock on Flash’s face, the swerving of her hero’s body, and the all-too comfortable expression on Piper’s face. “What’s getting started, exactly?”
“Your demise, of course.” Piper eyed her tape recorder, his expression unchanging. “You really thought I’d confess on tape?”
“Worth a try,” Iris fired right back.
“What would’ve you been confessing, anyway?” The Flash called.
He aimed a punch right for Piper’s jaw. He missed.
Piper wove under him, thrusting his elbow into the Flash’s side; the Flash vibrated through Piper. Piper lunged, seizing the arrows on both sides of Flash’s head; Flash dodged. They ran to the other side of the roof - with the very thin material creaking underneath.
The weight wouldn’t last much longer. Piper probably knew this. Flash knew Piper knew this. Now it was a waiting game before Piper confessed - if he did at all - and Iris had to capture something.
“Shame those lights below are so foggy,” Piper taunted, weaving past Flash again and again, “Or else they might’ve been your namesake.”
Iris froze. “Foggy?”
Piper scoffed, “Do I have to explain everything?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Iris reloaded her film, taking another shot - a wider landscape of the whole arena, with the floor beginning to shift and warp under them.
“They’re still made with carbon fibers. If they get too hot, they fog up, and oh, wouldn’t you know? They’ve been on for quite a while now…”
Flash turned on Piper, with a dangerous glint in his eye– “But that’s the marvel of this Palace, isn’t it? That all the bulbs are from tungsten, which never go out?”
“You believe anything printed on a piece of paper? Those bulbs don’t have a lick of tungsten in them. Sponsors wouldn’t know the difference. Sponsors also have more money than they would know what to do with.”
“So you would have pocketed the difference for yourself? Claimed you mastered what no one else could?”
“Your point, Flash?” Piper brandished his flute again, “Because I can make you dance again, just like those wonderful Patent Office agents.”
Iris smirked, “Gotcha.”
She had Piper where she wanted him, and Flash could run to seize him. They both rushed forward at the same time.
She raised her heels - the floor beneath her crunched as her right heel dug too deep into the flimsy material. The cold air gulped her in.
This was how she died: camera in hand, capturing the glory of a red-and-yellow blur with a red-and-blue blur. She could picture the obituary now.
As she pressed her camera’s flash one last time, Iris murmured a prayer. God, if she died, at least let these photos develop in one piece. Let the Flash earn his rightful place in history as a hero, and may Central City learn to actually put up permanent buildings for these exhibitions.
The cold air whooshed around her, right as the bright, brilliant light of her camera flash went off.
“Hey, stranger,” The red-and-blue blur called from behind, pushing Iris back onto the roof. “Might wanna take off those heels.”
“I’m so glad to see you, Supergirl,” Iris had to admit, with a laugh that was both parts relief and amusement. She clung tighter to the blur’s arms, not daring to take her eyes off from the battle before her. “The wireless messages actually worked?”
“Sure did!” Supergirl’s grin was enthusiastic as she flew them off to the side, just for the sake of Iris’s camera, “You shoulda seen the look on Jimmy’s face.”
Iris blinked. “Huh. Science really is a marvel.”
“The future is ever-changing, Iris. We’re just doomed to follow it along its automated tracks.”
Supergirl set Iris down on the roof across - on thicker, more permanent flooring. Flash and Piper threw punches that landed; the Palace caved in on itself with their weight.
Iris clicked her camera dozens of times, letting the images fly out into her hand with rapid speed; surely one of these would later develop into the money-making, story-grabbing shot. One of these would show the Palace’s implosion, with the proof in broken, fogged-up glass and fibers made from carbon and olden methods.
In the moment, though, the Palace and her boys were falling, breaking.
With a heavy, difficult sigh, Supergirl zoomed to her friend and foe, lifting them back both by the back of their collars –
“Boys,” she moaned, giving Iris an exasperated look. “You look away for one minute, and they go and demolish a whole exhibition.”
“It wasn’t on purpose!” Flash fought back, squirming under her arm, right as Piper actually laughed.
Iris too stifled a laugh.
“Good to have you with us, Supergirl,” she said instead, looking Supergirl - and only Supergirl - in the eye.
Supergirl met her gaze and teased, “What can I say? You did wish I were here.”
Once the literal dust cleared, with relevant debris swept up into evidence and the remains disposed into the proper bins, Officer Joe West arrived to make the arrest.
He took one look at Iris, then up at Flash and Supergirl, before lowering his captain’s hat in far-too-familiar display.
“Why is it,” he grumbled to no one in particular, “That when trouble arrives on my door, it’s always you three?”
“Beeeecause trouble loves us?” Barry dared to squeak.
The look Office West - her father, Barry’s father-in-law - gave them could have killed a lesser man.
The Tungsten Scandal, as Central City Picture News called it, had became the City's next biggest story. World Fairs were meant to house innovation, not falsification, yet the glitter and glamour had hidden the secrets right under everyone’s noses.
Even the capes and cowls of Flash’s and Piper’s fight had masked the truth of this scandal: the Steering Committee had allowed false inventions to take center stage. If mere lightbulbs were not the marvels everyone believed, then others were soon to follow. Shoddy craftsmanship had nearly claimed life of both friend and foe– what if Supergirl hadn't been there to save the day?
Barry was reading, “Every experiment and exhibition will undergo a re-examination to ensure its accuracy and efficacy. To ensure quality, new members of the Central City Exhibition Steering Committee will be elected at the end of this week. Mmm… Current members will be investigated for any potential connection to the tungsten bulb fraud…. ”
“Get to the end already!” Iris laughed, jumping to read over his shoulder, even though she knew every line by heart.
“Remember, Central: all that glitters isn’t tungsten. Sometimes, it may be ordinary, common carbon.” Barry peered over his shoulder at her. “Your first byline! How does it feel?”
“Amazing.” Iris had to stop and think, even as the words left her lips. “Like - I’m really making a difference, getting your story out into the world.”
“It's still your story. Your byline, and your words which moved me to my very soul. Got me to buy two more subscriptions for Christmas. One for us, one for Kara and Jimmy,” Barry teased, even as the warmth and love in his voice betrayed his pride in her.
Iris couldn’t find the heart to tease him back.
Facts sure had been brewing under the Fair’s glamor, even if they were grimy, dirty light bulbs and not the big, flashy story she had envisioned. Then again, she never really knew what she had envisioned in life.
The press badge around her neck, for the first time, was her own. The newspaper with her byline was also her own. Barry’s warm, loving smile was also her own. She was moving on up in the world, bit by bit - and all from following what was right under her own nose.
“You’re so unfair,” she found herself saying to him again.
“Might I remind you, you happen to be Central's biggest and brightest journalist. I'm allowed to be unfair next to such brilliance.”
Iris scrunched up her nose, even as she stole a kiss or two from him. She might've told a story from his eyes and secured a scoop with which the town would remember, but in the end: they had earned this together.
She might as well let him win this one.
So she draped her arms around his neck and nodded, “Darn right you are.”
Fandom: DCTV
Universe: Historical AU
Relationships: Barry Allen / Iris West
Summary: One scoop. That's all Iris needs to prove her mettle - and she knows that if she goes to the World's Fair, she'll find one there.
Notes: Written as part of an AU Yeah August Challenge, this was a present for
iluvroadrunner6. I hope you enjoy it, friend! It was a lot of fun to write, even as it challenged me at the best of times. The historical time period took a lot of cues from Code: Realize, and can be read as an AU set in that universe as well, should the reader choose. The World's Fair was opening today, and Iris wouldn't miss it for the world. True, a 75-mile long festival to showcase scientific achievement, agricultural innovation, and a centennial celebration of American prowess wasn't her idea of a grand time. On a good day, much less an ordinary one, she could barely comprehend her best friend's scientific mutterings. Yet this exhibition held an unspoken promise of a scoop - a real one, not just the puff pieces of "human interest" that dominated the local news.
One scoop. That was all Iris needed to prove her mettle. Even the Chief couldn't ignore the facts brewing underneath the Fair's glitz and glamour.
See, Iris wasn't an official reporter yet. Central City Picture News had explicitly hired her for her coffee brewing rather than news hitting, but a woman could dream. She just needed a ticket and a man who could translate complicated jargon into layman's terms.
Luckily for her, her best friend Barry Allen had both in spades.
“I still can't believe you're here with me,” he was telling her with exuberant joy as they walked through the Fair's entrance and received their designated wristbands. “What made you change your mind?”
A story, she wanted to say, but Barry's intuition was sharper than a tack.
Instead of giving him that smug satisfaction she would never live down, she latched onto his arm. “You.”
He blinked back genuine surprise, “Me?”
Poor Barry's cheeks flushed a bright red that rivaled his scarf as he held onto her hand. His chest brushed up against her shoulders as they moved forward into the crowd, and for once, he grew silent.
Her chatterbox, silent! Iris couldn't believe it, even as she craned her head to look at him better.
“Yes, you,” she tried to reassure him. “If I didn't want to be here, I would've stayed home, and then who would you have shared this marvel with?”
Barry laughed, his expression softening as he leaned into her. “Mm… Cisco and Caitlin? We’ve talked about going for months now.”
That didn’t surprise her. Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin had worked under Dr. Harrison Wells at S.T.A.R Labs downtown for several years now, and for as long as Iris could remember, they were as thick as thieves. No experiment or quandary was too big or small for their scientific investigation team. Each held a scientific expertise that filled in the others' gaps: Barry with chemistry, Cisco with physics, and Caitlin with biology and human anatomy. Dr. Wells, in turn, was well-versed in all three disciplines, and his daughter Jesse was quickly shaping up to be the same.
Knowing Cisco and Caitlin, they were scouring the fairgrounds with a sense of purpose. An urgency, if Iris willed, to see everything before the end.
Iris's aimless walking, in comparison, guaranteed little. She paused, glancing up to look for the nearest booth for maps and further information and holding onto her press badge tighter. It wasn't hers, technically, but a dunce like Mike wouldn't miss it anytime soon.
“I much prefer your company, however,” Barry was saying, following her towards the small booth distributing maps and bottles of water.
Iris grinned, weaving them through groups of people, “Because I remind you of your intelligence and wit?”
“What? No, of course not.” Barry's laugh was warm and rich - light enough to melt the slight pockets of snow that had lingered on the fairgrounds. “As marvelous as that makes me feel, I realized you're not as engrossed as we are. When I see you interacting with the exhibits and watching these demonstrations, I feel like I'm learning everything all over again. You've - you carry a sense of wonder around you, Iris. I wish I could unlearn everything so that we could share that together.”
How could he say something so sweet with such a straight, loving face? Iris groaned into his shoulder, “You're so unfair.”
“We're husband and wife, Iris. I'm allowed to be unfair.”
She leaned into his side, struggling to hide the groan that would otherwise escape her lips. Her husband meant so well - he was full of quiet, loving devotion, and even the worst of his wordplay was intended to see her smile. He spoke from the heart, something with which she still struggled.
Perhaps that was partially why she had relented, and had asked to accompany him to his most favorite place on Earth. It was high time (story or no) that she saw the world through his eyes.
The fair had erected several palaces around Central City in honor of the Fair, with lofty ideals inhabiting each and every one of them. Barry and Iris wandered through the Palace of Electricity and marveled at its new, portable cameras and ingenious electric lights–
“–the entire building,” Barry was saying, with awe in his voice as he pressed them up against the ropes separating them from the display. “The entire fair has hundreds of these bulbs! Look at the filament, Iris! They could last forever.”
“Impressive,” she had to admit, her breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell onto Barry.
His awe was reflected on the glass reflection of each and every bulb. Even though Barry stood taller than most of the men in the room, he felt like a kindergartner, ready to soak up the next lesson or three.
“The placards are saying they all have tungsten,” Barry was murmuring. “I’ve never seen anything so bright.”
“Tungsten?”
Her confusion must’ve spoken for her, because Barry quickly elaborated, “Light bulbs get cloudy if they’re lit too long. They fog up because they’re made with carbon, which… well, cloud glass in a closed space. These, however, remain crystal clear.”
Not a smudge in sight. Iris nodded as she pressed the camera.
Its brilliant light flashed in their faces. Yet the momentary interruption (the immortalized, beloved photo of his awe) failed to deter Barry’s attention. She laughed as she squeezed his hand, leaving only when he felt ready to move on.
The Palace of Machinery was next, with its tall metal tower greeting them from the outside. Iris drew a sharp breath upon seeing it and its observation deck, before weaving through the crowds. Once they twisted through the lines, wall-to-wall displays of scientific prowess greeted them.
“Whoa,” Barry’s breath hitched as he stared ahead at the nearly ten-feet tall computers in front of them. “Even S.T.A.R doesn’t have this many in one room. That looks like… is that even possible?”
Iris looked back at him, squeezing his hand. “What’s possible?”
“That machine claims it can transmit wireless messages to Metropolis and Star City,” Barry whispered in her ear, his gaze never leaving the illuminated machines. “If that’s true, we’ll never need a telegram again.”
He had to be kidding. Telegrams were the lifeblood of the post office, and even Cisco’s most sophisticated invention - the aether transmitter - required proximity to another device. A wireless machine, capable of transmitting messages long-distance?
She craned her head to stare at the display, and at the eager-eyed men and women instructing their companions on how to use such a marvel. How sound could travel across vast distances, she couldn’t begin to imagine - yet the idea excited her to the core.
“We should try it,” she encouraged, giving his hand another squeeze. “Give me something to write for the Picture.”
“Of course.” Barry’s expression softened as he led her forward. “Besides, we can send a line to Kara and Jimmy. See how they’re doing in Metropolis.”
Iris nodded, “Sure. I’m sure they’d like that.”
Frankly, someone like Jimmy Olsen seemed too knowledgeable to miss news about wireless messages, but he was also kind enough to appreciate the effort. Her fellow journalists would understand her desire to get the next big scoop.
Once they reached the front of the line, a representative of the US Patent Office greeted them and inquired about their intended message and recipients. His square, thick-rimmed glasses, combined with the harsh glint of the Palace's lights, hid his upper half of his face, and his suit was a garish shade of green that wouldn't have been out of place in the circus. Everything else about him had been nondescript at the time - dark hair, maybe? Pale complexion, like half of Central?
Iris supposed she shouldn't have judged; government officials often had less sense, and scientist or legal types doubly so. Then again, he seemed unusually stiff. Maybe he wasn't a public-facing employee? Unused to talking to others?
As Barry explained the finer details, Iris took a mental snapshot of the scene. To their left, elevators leading attendees to the observation deck were leaving every few minutes; to their right, the museum displays of machinery stretched further than the eye could see. All of it left her speechless.
“We’re ready,” Barry called, interlacing his fingers with hers and snapping her back to reality.
The green-suited representative led them into a room the side of a closet and flicked a few switches to begin the transmission. There were no fibers or cables, as the pamphlets had explained; just machines that could somehow transmit sound across space and time.
Barry stood in front of a microphone and relayed a simple message (“Hi Kara and Jimmy. Stop. Iris and I are at the World Fair. Stop. Wish you were here with us!”) before stepping back.
The microphones were switched off. The lights also dulled, their once-fierce yellow turning a dusty ash.
Iris blinked; everything in the room felt so much bleaker. Candlelight, at least, was warm and radiant. These bulbs were cloudy and foggy, darkening everything in its path.
“Hm…” She tugged on Barry’s sleeve. “I think we made a mistake. The lights aren’t working.”
“They’re supposed to switch off once we’re done,” Barry idly commented as he pulled out his wallet.
Iris sighed, “Not quite what I meant.”
The representative raised an eyebrow at her; however, Iris chose to ignore it while Barry procured payment.
As Barry’s Flash ring brushed against the other man’s knuckles to exchange the hard-earned cash, the green-suited man’s face melted into a dangerous smirk.
Barry paused. “Hartley?”
“I thought I recognized you, Bartholomew,” the man murmured, counting each individual bill with an unusual calm. “Pity this will be the last thing you see.”
The entire room seemed to vibrate – no, her ears were ringing as the man pulled out a flute from his sleeve and blew. The sharp note hurt. God, it hurt. The dark, foggy lights shook, and everything started to darken.
Iris clung to the table, the edge of her vision catching an all-too familiar red-and-yellow streak of light wrapping around her arms.
His voice was low, “Hang on,” right before the entire world spun together.
Iris squeezed her eyes shut as she clung onto Barry. Her nails dug into his leather suit, and even this close, she could sense his racing heartbeat. He screeched to a halt. Her head was still spinning and throbbing, her ears popping from the suddenness of it all.
Screams erupted from behind; footsteps pounded as dozens of people scampered out of line. The soft, annoying pitch of a flute remained. The melody only irritated her further.
The Palace may be deserted, but they may not be alone. A lone straggler or two may still hide beneath the fine machinery (as hard as it was for Iris to imagine).
One annoyance at a time. Iris clung to Barry, even as she climbed down and forced her heels to dig into the firm earth underneath.
“The Pied Piper?” she mouthed. She wouldn’t let a mere scoundrel ruin her scoop. “We get this far, and a Rogue like the Pied Piper tries to trap us in the transmission room?”
Barry - no, the Flash sighed, rubbing his arms as he glanced up at the hundreds of light bulbs. “I should have guessed. This exhibition is the talk of the town - the perfect opportunity for Hartley to steal something under our very noses.”
Iris paused, standing up on her tip-toes.
“Wait. Bar-Flash…”
He peered back at her. “Yes?”
“You said the bulbs were made from tungsten, and therefore, don’t smudge the glass?”
“Right. They’re revolutionary, just like most of the marvels we’ve seen all day and–” The Flash followed her gaze, his brow furrowing. “Oh. I see now.”
“I’m guessing it wouldn’t have been very hard to lie, or fool the local patent office with a fake ID card.”
“No, especially not for someone with Hartley’s connections.”
Iris reached for a spare portable camera, holding it up to the light and pressing the button to make it flash. While she wasn’t an expert on such marvels, she knew a foul stench when she saw one.
The Flash frowned, “You think he knew they were fake?”
“Either that, or he thought we knew.” Iris held the wet film out, flapping it in the air to help it dry faster. “Which we do now.”
“I have to find him.”
“Not by yourself,” Iris chided lightly, tying up her hair and tidying up her outfit.
He peered up at her, with an unspoken question on his lips–
“Together.” Iris’s smile felt more like a smirk as she reached out for the Flash’s hand. “You fight; I’ll make sure the world hears his confession.”
Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin leading children to their death, the Rogue had led them to the very roof of the Place. The unsteady, thin material of the roofing gave Iris considerable pause.
At the time, when the press releases had been made public, the very idea of a temporary building had been noteworthy and economical. Central City couldn’t afford a permanent Palace that stretched around its borders.
Now, with her and the Flash standing opposite a flute-playing Rogue, its transience terrified her. Iris steadied herself and her camera with a deep breath, pressing the button to capture the scene.
(She must’ve had dozens of images by now, but these would be the most crucial. The most important for her big scoop.)
“It’s over, Piper,” Flash screamed over the shrills of the flute.
The Piper merely smiled as he lowered his instrument. “I couldn’t hear you, Flash. What were you saying?”
“I said, it’s over.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started.” The Piper’s lips curled up in the imitation of a smile as he pressed his flute to his lips.
The Flash lunged. Before the Flash could snatch it, the very foundation between Flash and Piper crumbled. The material tumbled to the ground, snapping floors beneath it in half – all the way back down to terra firma.
Iris took a step back, watching as her red-and-yellow blur zoomed around Piper. Her camera couldn’t capture the Flash. In fact, that distinctive yellow - like the flash of a camera - was how he had earned his name, all those years ago.
Yet it could capture the Piper, pushing back against the Flash with sonic waves, falling down to Earth and taking the Flash and Iris down with him –
wait, Iris was going to go down too.
“Piper!” Iris pushed through, ignoring the shock on Flash’s face, the swerving of her hero’s body, and the all-too comfortable expression on Piper’s face. “What’s getting started, exactly?”
“Your demise, of course.” Piper eyed her tape recorder, his expression unchanging. “You really thought I’d confess on tape?”
“Worth a try,” Iris fired right back.
“What would’ve you been confessing, anyway?” The Flash called.
He aimed a punch right for Piper’s jaw. He missed.
Piper wove under him, thrusting his elbow into the Flash’s side; the Flash vibrated through Piper. Piper lunged, seizing the arrows on both sides of Flash’s head; Flash dodged. They ran to the other side of the roof - with the very thin material creaking underneath.
The weight wouldn’t last much longer. Piper probably knew this. Flash knew Piper knew this. Now it was a waiting game before Piper confessed - if he did at all - and Iris had to capture something.
“Shame those lights below are so foggy,” Piper taunted, weaving past Flash again and again, “Or else they might’ve been your namesake.”
Iris froze. “Foggy?”
Piper scoffed, “Do I have to explain everything?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Iris reloaded her film, taking another shot - a wider landscape of the whole arena, with the floor beginning to shift and warp under them.
“They’re still made with carbon fibers. If they get too hot, they fog up, and oh, wouldn’t you know? They’ve been on for quite a while now…”
Flash turned on Piper, with a dangerous glint in his eye– “But that’s the marvel of this Palace, isn’t it? That all the bulbs are from tungsten, which never go out?”
“You believe anything printed on a piece of paper? Those bulbs don’t have a lick of tungsten in them. Sponsors wouldn’t know the difference. Sponsors also have more money than they would know what to do with.”
“So you would have pocketed the difference for yourself? Claimed you mastered what no one else could?”
“Your point, Flash?” Piper brandished his flute again, “Because I can make you dance again, just like those wonderful Patent Office agents.”
Iris smirked, “Gotcha.”
She had Piper where she wanted him, and Flash could run to seize him. They both rushed forward at the same time.
She raised her heels - the floor beneath her crunched as her right heel dug too deep into the flimsy material. The cold air gulped her in.
This was how she died: camera in hand, capturing the glory of a red-and-yellow blur with a red-and-blue blur. She could picture the obituary now.
As she pressed her camera’s flash one last time, Iris murmured a prayer. God, if she died, at least let these photos develop in one piece. Let the Flash earn his rightful place in history as a hero, and may Central City learn to actually put up permanent buildings for these exhibitions.
The cold air whooshed around her, right as the bright, brilliant light of her camera flash went off.
“Hey, stranger,” The red-and-blue blur called from behind, pushing Iris back onto the roof. “Might wanna take off those heels.”
“I’m so glad to see you, Supergirl,” Iris had to admit, with a laugh that was both parts relief and amusement. She clung tighter to the blur’s arms, not daring to take her eyes off from the battle before her. “The wireless messages actually worked?”
“Sure did!” Supergirl’s grin was enthusiastic as she flew them off to the side, just for the sake of Iris’s camera, “You shoulda seen the look on Jimmy’s face.”
Iris blinked. “Huh. Science really is a marvel.”
“The future is ever-changing, Iris. We’re just doomed to follow it along its automated tracks.”
Supergirl set Iris down on the roof across - on thicker, more permanent flooring. Flash and Piper threw punches that landed; the Palace caved in on itself with their weight.
Iris clicked her camera dozens of times, letting the images fly out into her hand with rapid speed; surely one of these would later develop into the money-making, story-grabbing shot. One of these would show the Palace’s implosion, with the proof in broken, fogged-up glass and fibers made from carbon and olden methods.
In the moment, though, the Palace and her boys were falling, breaking.
With a heavy, difficult sigh, Supergirl zoomed to her friend and foe, lifting them back both by the back of their collars –
“Boys,” she moaned, giving Iris an exasperated look. “You look away for one minute, and they go and demolish a whole exhibition.”
“It wasn’t on purpose!” Flash fought back, squirming under her arm, right as Piper actually laughed.
Iris too stifled a laugh.
“Good to have you with us, Supergirl,” she said instead, looking Supergirl - and only Supergirl - in the eye.
Supergirl met her gaze and teased, “What can I say? You did wish I were here.”
Once the literal dust cleared, with relevant debris swept up into evidence and the remains disposed into the proper bins, Officer Joe West arrived to make the arrest.
He took one look at Iris, then up at Flash and Supergirl, before lowering his captain’s hat in far-too-familiar display.
“Why is it,” he grumbled to no one in particular, “That when trouble arrives on my door, it’s always you three?”
“Beeeecause trouble loves us?” Barry dared to squeak.
The look Office West - her father, Barry’s father-in-law - gave them could have killed a lesser man.
The Tungsten Scandal, as Central City Picture News called it, had became the City's next biggest story. World Fairs were meant to house innovation, not falsification, yet the glitter and glamour had hidden the secrets right under everyone’s noses.
Even the capes and cowls of Flash’s and Piper’s fight had masked the truth of this scandal: the Steering Committee had allowed false inventions to take center stage. If mere lightbulbs were not the marvels everyone believed, then others were soon to follow. Shoddy craftsmanship had nearly claimed life of both friend and foe– what if Supergirl hadn't been there to save the day?
Barry was reading, “Every experiment and exhibition will undergo a re-examination to ensure its accuracy and efficacy. To ensure quality, new members of the Central City Exhibition Steering Committee will be elected at the end of this week. Mmm… Current members will be investigated for any potential connection to the tungsten bulb fraud…. ”
“Get to the end already!” Iris laughed, jumping to read over his shoulder, even though she knew every line by heart.
“Remember, Central: all that glitters isn’t tungsten. Sometimes, it may be ordinary, common carbon.” Barry peered over his shoulder at her. “Your first byline! How does it feel?”
“Amazing.” Iris had to stop and think, even as the words left her lips. “Like - I’m really making a difference, getting your story out into the world.”
“It's still your story. Your byline, and your words which moved me to my very soul. Got me to buy two more subscriptions for Christmas. One for us, one for Kara and Jimmy,” Barry teased, even as the warmth and love in his voice betrayed his pride in her.
Iris couldn’t find the heart to tease him back.
Facts sure had been brewing under the Fair’s glamor, even if they were grimy, dirty light bulbs and not the big, flashy story she had envisioned. Then again, she never really knew what she had envisioned in life.
The press badge around her neck, for the first time, was her own. The newspaper with her byline was also her own. Barry’s warm, loving smile was also her own. She was moving on up in the world, bit by bit - and all from following what was right under her own nose.
“You’re so unfair,” she found herself saying to him again.
“Might I remind you, you happen to be Central's biggest and brightest journalist. I'm allowed to be unfair next to such brilliance.”
Iris scrunched up her nose, even as she stole a kiss or two from him. She might've told a story from his eyes and secured a scoop with which the town would remember, but in the end: they had earned this together.
She might as well let him win this one.
So she draped her arms around his neck and nodded, “Darn right you are.”
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