Many villains fight for dominance in the world.

Many are held at the pantheon; the greatest and most deadly. Lex Luther, the Joker, Zoom, Sinestro, Deathstroke.

Others, others have been the source of constant ridicule, the Mad Hatter, Tweedle-Dee & Dum, the penguin.

While others still, were once dominant, able to come within a hair's breadth of defeating their foes, but are now forgotten. Forced into the realms of the obscure.

We deal with such a man.

His name is Professor Amos Fortune, and he is mad. Amos was once a renowned scientist, discovering glands in the human body that produce luck. He constructed a device to that end and, terrifyingly, launched a campaign against the Justice League.

But all the luck in the world could not have saved him. He has tried again, and again, but each time is met with failure. He is a laughing stock among his peers. The cell across from his own is occupied by the Tattoo man, and he laughs at Amos whenever he feels down on his luck.

"Hey Amos, you are one lucky guy there. You got maybe an extra pinch of salt on your gruel. Hahahahaha!"

Amos sneered at him through the bars as the guard walked by. Soon, he thought, soon, I'll be luckier than that. He watched the guard and concentrated intensely. He focused all his willpower into his luck glands. A piece of paper, just a scrap, floated out from the guard's pocket and through the bars into Amos' cell.

He sniggered at his great luck. Luck nothing, he made his own luck. In his glands. That nobody but him knew they had. Those fools on Oolong Island should have taken him in.

He took out a small machine from under his pillow. Luckily, the guards hadn't found him.

"Hey, what do you got there Lucky? Something that makes four leafed clovers?"

He glared at the buffoon in the opposite cell. "Silence oaf. You shall rue the days you've antagonized me."

Over the Tattoo man's laughter, he attached the small slip of scrap paper to his device, in what looked like careful origami. He set it in the center of his cell's floor, and focused intensely on it with his glands as he pulled the lever. A small whirring noise emitted, and the small light on top of it glowed with life.

"Ahaha. Hahaha. Ahahahahahaha!"

"Guards!! Amos made a bomb! He has a bomb in his cell!"

Tattoo man grinned behind his bars. Amos stared at him in shock, then quickly tried to put his machine back in its hiding place, but he forgot to focus. With a crash his delicate machine exploded.

Blinding light of every color poured out of the cell, before turning blue, then white, then with a final shriek, disappeared. Amos got up in a daze. The bars of his cell had been blown off of his hinges. The guards came in and quickly, put him in cuffs to take him to solitary.

"Why?" He moaned. "All of that luck, why?"

"Hey, easy come, easy go I guess." Tattoo man smirked. He was eligible for probation in two days, and he would probably get points for good behavior thanks to this. As he was being led away, Amos Fortune glared at him with all his might. The next day, the tattoo man got into a fight with Crazy Quilt. He was put into traction for the next two months, sporting broken bones, a broken rep., and a broken chance at parole.

The machine wasn't a complete failure. Amos Fortune doesn't know that, but then, he is very distracted lately. His device had been constructed for one purpose only: to destroy the Justice League, and to let him watch it. He was fine with being stuck in jail, just so long as he could have proven that, even in jail, all of the mad scientists of Oolong Island were no match for him. Unfortunately, when the device broke, it sent it's bad fortune to another dimension. Earth 45, wherein this tale takes place.