Chapter 51: The Contest

If there was one thing that Lincoln Velazquest had in spades - aside from charm, good looks, business smarts, street smarts, regular smarts, coolness, money, and a bunch of other things he couldn't think of off the top of his head - it was imagination. He loved to read, play games, and make money, but he was also perfectly content to lay in bed and let his imagination run wild, He would construct vast and complex fantasy worlds populated by orcs, gunslingers, aliens, super heroes, cat people, and ogres, most of them based on people he knew. He wasn't all that good at coming up with original and unique OCs (original characters), but that was okay, because story is more important than characters. A lot of people might disagree with him, but he would rather read an epic story with cardboard-tier characters than a boring and mediocre story with great characters. Most of the artists and writers in the Ace Savvy fandom had it backwards. They thought he was dumb for thinking the way he most of them were mediocre and couldn't come up with an interesting story and toiled in obscurity. Lincoln had tried his hand at writing but it bored him to tears; even so, he loved coming up with stories and entertaining himself with them.

For years, he was content to keep those worlds and characters to himself, but shortly before the tornado that destroyed his and his family's home and necessitated them moving in with the Louds, he decided that he wanted to share them with the world. That decision came about not because he had the burning passion to see his ideas come to life, bit because of money. A few months ago, he was browsing the website of a horror maghazine that he occasionally read and came across a tab marked SUBMISSIONS. He clicked on it out of curiosity and read the submission guidelines. He had never thought to wonder how the magazine acquired the stories it published, but he learned that day that anyone could send on in and the editors would read it. If they liked it, they would put it in an issue of the magazine. If they didn;t, he guessed they would crumple it up and throw it in the trash.

The idea of having his work read by hundreds, if not thousands, of people was cool, but the payment was even cooler. The magazine would give you a hundred bucks for a 5,000 word story. A hundred bucks! Lincoln looked into it and there were dozens of magazines and online websites that paid writers. Most of them offered insultingly low rates like five to ten bucks (LOL wut) but a few would give you fifty or a hundred, One or two would pay even more than that. Lincoln loved telling stories and the prospect of being paid to do so excited him greatly. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote a short story by hand, then sent it to major fiction magazine through the mail. It was about a group of people on the run from buff zombies who got nuked and instead of dying turned into hulking mutants with super powers. It came to five handwritten pages and featured tons of words and entire lines crossed out. Lincoln read it back to himself, dubbed himself the greatest writer to ever live (even better than Stephen King), and then mailed it to the editor. He folded the papers hotdog style, didn't pay for return postage, and waited impatiently. After two days of not hearing back, he emailed the editor, then again two days later. The editor never responded byut Lincoln hit them with annoying emails every day or so regardless.

Finally, a letter came in the mail. It was a rejection, and the editor wrote a personalized response at the bottom of the page in red pen. Your writing is not bad but needs work. Also, never send anything to a magazine that has been written by hand. Submissions must be typed and must include a self-addressed, stamped envelope. You can find this information online. Good luck.

Lincoln felt like an idiot for making so many amature mistakes, but he was heartened that the editor liked his story. If it wasn't for him stupidly writing it by hand and not including a self-addressed envelope, he would have gotten in for sure,

For a week straight, Lincoln pumped out short story after short story, then mailed them to a dozen different editors. He stood by the mailbox and peeked in every five seconds like Spongebob waiting for his toy to come in and he slipped in his school because he couldn't think of anything but those darn letters coming in. He envisioned twelve acceptances, every editor stunned by his mastery of language and storytelling. This was the beginning of something special, he just knew it.

Then the letters started coming in.

Rejection.

Rejection.

Rejection.

Each one stung worse than the last, and when the final one appeared in his mailbox, he took a deep breath and tore it open.

Reeeeeeeeejeeeeeeeeeected.

What a crock! Were these people blind? Did they actually read his work? It was awesome. He was going to be the next Stephen King. He was going to make the big time. He'd blow up and they'd beg for him to submit again. Didn't they realize this?

Apparently not, and apparently sending an angry letter to a magazine editor and demanding that he "actually read my story this time" will get you blacklisted from future submissions.

Oh well, horror was great but he didn't feel like writing it anyway, so there.

He wanted to write superheroes instead.

Lincoln was a huge capefan. He loved capecrap the way Dad loved wrestling.

Okay, maybe he didn't love it that much, but he really dug it. Superman, Spider-Man, The Punisher, even Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy. His favorite above all others was Ace Savvy, the square-jawed defender of New South Metropolis. Ace Savvy was the perfect cross between superhuman and all-too-human; he could do amazing things that made your jaw drop and your eyes get all big and shimmery, then he could ruminate on the nature of good and evil. His favorite Ace Savvy story arc was the one where Ace spent fifteen issues hunting a serial killer who wore a black trenchcoat and black leather gloves and used a straight razor. No other superhero that Lincoln knew of had ever come face to face with a legit serial killer. That storyline was mature, subdued, adult, and gritty, just the way Lincoln liked his capestuff. Lincoln wanted to write stuff like that. He had an idea for a sequel to Joker that he considered turning into a fan fiction, but he was seriously thinking about making it into a comic. He was a pretty decent artist and was sure he could illustrate it himself. The only problem was: Should he keep it a fan comic, or spin it off into its own original concept?

Lincoln was young but he'd been around the black in a lot of ways, and there was one thing he knew: Fan artists get way more traction than artists who do their own thing. It makes a ton of sense, really. Fan artists have a readymade fanbase to draw from, while original artists have to build from scratch. And fans of fan artists...well, sorry to say this, but they're not really fans at all. Their loyalty is to the property. For instance, Lincoln could do an Ace Savvy comic and people would doubtlessly praise his writing and his art up and down, They would tell him how great he was, how much his work spoke to and inspired them, how much they loved and adored it. But if he said, "You know, I have an original project that could use some love", they'd turn their noses up at at because it wasn't Ace Savvy related, Very few fandom artists and writers truly had fans of their own; people only cared about them because they created content for stuff they already liked. The moment they stopped, all those fanboys turned on them. It's so hard for a writer or artist to really blow up because people just won't support them unless their content is spoon fed to them by Marvel or Nickelodeon.

It's a sad state of affairs. If Lincoln kept the comic in the Batman fandom, people would read it. If he took it outside of the fandom, they wouldn't give it a single chance.

Did it matter either way to him whether it was a fan comic or not? He guessed not, but there's something satisfying about being accepted and beloved for doing your own thing. Fandom praise is hollow, empty. "Wow, you colored inside the lines, gold star."

If he kept it a fan comic, though, he couldn't make money off of it, unless he created a or something.

Hmmmm. What to do, what to do.

Before he could make a decision, the tornado came and thoughts of comics and fandoms were forced out by more pressing matters. Over the ensuing six weeks, he and Johnny settled in at the Loud house and acclimated to its culture and politics. Once that was out of the way, Lincoln went back to thinking about his comic idea. One day, he even sat down and drew up a few storyboards. The plot was this: Years after Batman's family is killed in the unrest caused by The Joker, Batman is a young man with a burning hatred for criminals. While searching for The Joker, he takes to stalking the city at night and beating criminals up. He eventually graduates to executing them with a pistol. He pens a letter to the press where he talks about swooping in to administer justice "like a bat from the night," leading the papers to dub him The Bat Man. Eventually, he tracks Joker down and they have an epic battle in an abandoned warehouse.

There was more to it, but that was the basic outline, and he was pretty happy with it. Johnny, sitting in his bunk and watching dumb TikTok dances, had other idea. "Batman doesn't kill people," he said without looking up from his phone.

"He does in this," Lincoln stated.

"Then he's not Batman," Johnny said. "Not killing people is a huge part of his character, you can't just change that on a whim."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. Johnny was one of those types who believe that fan artists and writers should follow canon to the letter. If that's what you want, why not just watch the freaking show? Why write these big, long, weirdo reviews crying because someone changed a minor detail? "In Episode 3, Season 4, Production Code 3dash12TGFV, Ace's tennis shoes have a black stripe on the side, not a red one."

Dude, who cares? And if you do care, you need to go outside and touch some grass.

"This is my story and I can do whatever i want," Lincoln said, half turning in his chair to look at his brother. "If you don't like it, don't read it."

"Oh, trust me, I won't."

"Good," Lincoln said.

"I just think it's messed up that you're going to ignore canon like that."

"And I think it's messed up that you care so much about what someone else is doing. Why don't you mind your own business and worry about yourself?"

He half expected that comment to lead to a physical altercation, but Johnny only made a judgemental humph sound and continued watching his videos.

For the next two days, Lincoln tinkered with the comic, but he began to realize how big the project was going to be and got a mean case of cold feet. He didn't think he'd be able to handle such a huge and profound story. He needed something small to start out with.

But what?

He logged onto Facebook and that's when he saw it.

The post that changed everything.

It was in an official Ace Savvy fan group. The company that owned the copyright to Ace Savvy was going through a massive court case and was going to lose its copyright claim to several properties it had recently purchased, including Ace Savvy. Something about unfair business practices. The courts had ruled that it could not sell the copyright so, in what Lincoln took to be a major PR move, they were holding a contest: Write an original comic and send it in. The best one would be hand-picked by the Ace Savvy team and the winner would be transferred the copyright to Ace Savvy

Lincoln read the post three times, sure that his brain was malfunctioning. They were giving away the copyright to Ace Savvy, a million dollar property...in a contest? That made absolutely no sense whatsoever and he had a hard time believing it. It had to be some kind of gimmick or maybe the work of a hacker. There was no way it could be true.

He did a quick internet search and yep, it was true alright.

A lead balloon swelled in his stomach and his breathing changed.

He could own the rights to Ace Savvy, the best comic ever and a huge moneymaker.

All he had to do was write and illustrate a kick ass comic.

Now...all he needed to do was come up with an idea.

Lincoln's first thought was to do the Batman idea he had, but he realized that that wouldn't work. All characters and settings had to be original. You could use characters inspired by other, more famous characters but they had to be OCs. He could base his character on Batman but that seemed like more work than just making his own.

For several days, he racked his brain for a good story and interesting characters. One day, he was sitting on the couch with a pad of paper. Chaos raged around him, Lola and Lana fighting, Luan cracking jokes , and Lucy chasing Johnny around with her tongue loling out. His mind began to work, and he jotted down a list of OCs.

Lori: Basically like Captain Marvel. A kick ass brawler with enhanced strength and stamina. She was the leader of The Revengers.

Leni: Could read minds and emotions. She could also move things with her mind.

Luna: She manipulated soundwaves and could control people through the magical tone of her dreaded axe.

Luan: Luan could go ghost, becoming invisible and walking through stuff.

Lynn: Super speed. She could run around the world five times in a single second.

Lucy: Teleportation and controlling shadows.

Lana: Can communicate with animals,

Lola: Could create crystals. She could also fart fairy dust. (He added that to be funny).

Lisa: Yep, you guessed it, Lisa was super smart. She had a swollen head that Leni had to keep propped upright with her mind powers, owing to the massive size of her brain.

Lily: The most important member of the group. No, really. Lily acted as an "antenna" that channeled the cosmic energy that gives everyone their powers. Without her, they were just a bunch of normal, loser kids.

In addition to The Rebel League, there were two other superheroes, brothers and neighbors. Lincoln was basically a Captain America stand-in, only on his shield, he had an L instead of a star. Johnny was discount Deadpool. In canon, he was a soldier who suffered a hideous face injury and went insane, but in a fun way.

The story Lincoln crafted was the single greatest thing he had ever written.

It went like this.

Jet fighters streaked across the red sky and columns of tanks and troops rolled through the rubble-strewn streets of Great Lakes City. Men crawled through the irradiated wreckage and fired at the troops, but were quickly cut down. Fires raged across the city and the rattle of gunfire filled the smoke-clogged air. It was 2024 and the government had gone full authoritarian. President Biden, whose approval ratings fell to 2 percent after China invaded and took over Taiwan, was assassinated the year before by some crazy right-wing guy but the doctors managed to transfer his brain into a robot. Now instead of being kinda senile, Biden was straight up evil and wanted to punish America for losing faith in him. First, he started dunking on Republicans...with bullets. Then he went for the independents...then for other Democrats. He was after everyone and a lot of people followed him in the hopes that he would spare their lives. Resistance groups fought back but they had little success. Humanity's last hope was…

The Rebel League.

The Loud girls sat in their underground lair around a big table with Johnny and Lincoln. Leni pressed her fingertips to her temples, closed her eyes, and read the minds of the advancing troops. "They're, like, getting closer. They know where we are."

Lori, seated at the head of the table, stood up. "We have to make our stand. No more running away."

Johnny, legs kicked up on the table, pointed to her in agreement. He wore a Deadpool style mask, goggles parked on his head, and dreadlocks (Lincoln headcanoned him as not wearing a paper bag).

Doing some quick mental calculations, Lisa said, "We have a 59.3 percent chance of winning if the jets and tanks are taken out first."

Lola opened her mouth but Lisa anticipated what she was going to ask. "The jets should be taken out first."

"On it," Lincoln said.

The Rebel League left their bunker in a line. They crouched in an alley and moved silently to the street. Lincoln and Johnny climbed a fire escape and reached a flat roof. Jets streaked by and Lincoln nodded to his brother. He threw his shield like a big frisbee and it hit one of the planes, slicing the wing off. It went into a tailspin and crashed. Lincoln and Johnny high-fived. "That's not enough," Luna called. They looked up and more jets were coming their way.

"Uh-oh." Lincoln said.

Johnny shrugged and held up a sign that said HELP ME.

In the street, Luna slammed one foot on the ground and began to shred her guitar. Soundwaves shot out and filled the sky. The jets' engines malfunctioned and the pilots began to bawl like babies as her music magic flooded their systems with soy and estrogen. They dropped from the sky like stones, but one managed to fire a missile that crashed into the building Lincoln and Johnny were standing on. Lincoln started to scream but suddenly they were standing in the street with the others.

What the?

"Thank me later," Lynn said.

Before Lincoln could reply, soldiers swarmed them. Lincoln held up his shield and deflected a burst of gunfire while Johnny somersaulted backward, whipped out his sword, and slashed a soldier's throat. Lola let out a fairy dust fart and a group of soldiers coughed and choked. Another solider let loose a German shepard and it lunged for Lisa, but Lana got in-between them. "Stop, we're your friends," Lana said in dog.

"He likes Gravy Train," Leni said, reading his mind. A solider grabbed her and she kicked him.

"If you don't attack us, we'll give you Gravy Train," Lana barked.

The dog instantly rolled onto his back and started panting.

Lucy created shadows between her hands like a fireball and threw it at a couple soldiers; they screamed in terror as they were sucked into a barren landscape of ghosts and sadness. Luan went invisible, passed through the wall of an approaching tank, and snapped the neck of the driver. His comrade panicked and fired his weapon; the bullet ricocheted and hit him in the head.

When the enemy had been defeated, the heroes met in the street. "We did it," Lincoln said.

"That was really easy," Lori said, "I expected it to be harder."

"My calculations were correct," Lisa said, confused, "it should have been harder."

Leni winced and pressed her fingertips to her temples. "He's coming."

Everyone looked at her. "Who?" Lincoln asked.

Johnny waved her off. You're paranoid, he seemed to say.

Just then, the earth shook and they all looked to the north just as a giant robot peeked around the corner of a building. Everyone's jaws dropped and Lola tooted glitter. Inside the control room, Mecha Joe Biden X19 controlled the beast, his evil, mechanical laughter echoing through the metallic bowels. "Your time is up, Rebel League," he said. Lasers shot from his eyes and hit the ground in front of them, knocking them to the ground. Lori was the first one up, levitating off the ground. Johnny jumped to his feet and unsheathed his sword with a flourish. Everyone clustered around them. "Alright, guys," Lori said, "let's do this."

They charged at Mecha Joe Biden. Lori flew up to his face and shot a fireball into the mouth, Lynn ran up one leg, Luna shredded her guitar, sending devastating sonic booms out, Leni used her mind powers to short circle the hydraulic drive in the the robot's engine room, and Luan passed through the metal exoskeleton, whereupon she made her way to the control room. The robot lashed out and kicked Lincoln, who flew into a building and knocked it down. Johnny pressed his hand to his mouth in shock, then ran at the machine with his sword. Lana called forth all the pigeons in the city and they battered themselves against the robot's head. Another contingent sacrificed itself by flying directly into the exhaust and clogging up the motor.

Mecha Joe Biden snatched Lori out of the air and opened its giant metal maw, but before it could eat her, it seized up. The head twitched and electric jolts zapped around it. For a moment it stood there, motionless, then Johnny came over and poked it, and it fell into a cluster of buildings, destroying them.

Johnny smugly crossed his arms and nodded. Yeah, I did that.

Mecha Joe Biden himself crawled out of the wreckage. Lynn raced over and kicked him so hard that he flew into the air. Lori flew over, pummelled him on his way down, and then flung him to the ground. He lay there in a broken heap, leaking motor oil. Lincoln strode over, propped his foot on the robot's metal breastplate, and said, "You're under arrest."

Lincoln wrote and illustrated the comic, then entered it in the contest. He waited to hear back for weeks. He was on the edge of his seat, biting his nails, sweating bullets,s and a thousand other cliches. Was his comic good enough? The more time that passed, the more he doubted himself. He was surely competing with millions of other hopefuls so the competition would be fierce. At night, he lay awake in bed for hours before getting up to pace around, and during the day, his mind wandered back to the contest. It was heck on earth and it was starting to drive him crazy. The Loud girls noticed how upright he was and started asking questions; he told them, and to his surprise, they were all flattered.

Except for Lola.

"I don't like that you showed me farting," she said and crossed her arms. "But I still like being a comic book character."

Almost two months after entering the contest, Lincoln got an email notifying him to watch the winner announced via livestream. That night, he sat in front of his computer while a man in a suit and woman in a sparkly dress reached into a giant metal mesh ball filled with scraps of paper. The Loud girls, Johnny, Mom, Dad, and Mr. and Mrs. Loud clustered around him to offer support. Lincoln's heart raced and his stomach flipped and kicked. "And the winner of the 2021 Copyright Contest Extravaganza is…"

Drumroll.

Lincoln held his breath.

"Lincoln Velazquest."

Lincoln's heart stopped.

He won?

HE WON?

Everyone broke out into cheers and Lincoln smiled dumbly.

He now owned the copyright to Ace Savvy and his life was about to change,

Forever.