Clark reached the warehouse and started looking around. He figured the machine must be around here somewhere, since both Jameson and Webb had been lurking earlier. He stood in the entrance of the building and scanned the area. Nothing.

He wondered if he'd made a mistake. What if it were back at Hamilton's lab? He'd never be able to get past all those meteor rocks. No – it must be here. What other significance could Webb and Jameson's presence have?

There was another building next door. Clark checked it out. A metal door gleamed in one wall. Clark X-rayed it to reveal an elevator shaft going down into the earth. He entered the lift and it began its descent. Upon arriving at the bottom the doors swished open to reveal a laboratory scattered with equipment. A huge machine trailing pipes and wires and shaped like a B-movie industrial-sized ray gun sat like a grotesquely fat glutton being drip-fed his latest meal.

Clark moved out of the lift warily, after making sure no one was in the lab. He could not sense any meteor rocks yet, which was a good sign. He made his way circumspectly towards the machine. It looked fiendishly complicated. Clark looked around it for a control panel and found two plaques fixed to the side. One said, "Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future – Niels Bohr." The other, more usefully, said, "WARNING: NEVER charge coils before engaging targeting beam."

From this Clark managed to locate the targeting beam control and switch it on, before engaging the switch marked "Charge Coils". The machine hummed into life and Clark congratulated himself on his outlandish piece of luck. An LED display winked at him, and he noticed it was counting down from ten. He manoeuvred himself in front of the pointed end of the machine and waited. As the hum of the machine increased in pitch and intensity he became aware of a green glow emanating from deep within the complexity of the machine. He began to feel nauseous, but endeavoured to stand his ground. Eventually the countdown reached zero, and the hum stopped. Immediately a burst of green light erupted from the tip of the gun apparatus and hit Clark heavily in the chest with the force of a truck. He felt like his torso was being torn apart atom by atom. The burning, searing pain escalated to an unimaginable height within a second and everything became black.

Upon waking, the outrageously white-hot pain and mind-numbing ache paralysing his body were… just a memory.

He felt fine.

He flexed his joints and received no warning signals. He stood up and didn't fall back down. That was odd. He could have sworn he was being torn apart by that poisonous green beam. Even if it hadn't killed him, he had still expected it to cause him some damage – after all, Chloe had mentioned that he'd looked sick, hadn't she?

He pulled himself together and walked back into the lift. The equipment scattered around the lab was different; some of it was missing and some of it had been moved. He chose to assume this meant he had travelled back in time, but he had no idea how far. His watch, of course, was now wrong; but he remembered seeing a clock on the wall in the office next door. The lift ascended and he made his way outside. The position of the sun indicated that it was now morning, and after x-raying the office he ascertained the time was 9:35. That left the day to be determined. He decided against following Jameson's example, and headed into town to find a newspaper.

He found a newsstand and checked the date. It was Sunday.

The same god damn day.

What the hell use was that? He'd travelled back a matter of hours. He fumed – at himself, at Webb, at Jameson, and finally at himself again.

It looked like he had his work cut out. It was getting close to the time when Chloe would be meeting him in the Talon – he'd better go and tell her to meet him there.

  Hang on - he paused, and chewed this thought over in his head. The only reason he was going to tell her to tell him to meet Jameson was because she'd told him that he'd told her to tell him to meet Jameson.

He carefully stored this thought away in a dark corner of his brain and attempted to ignore it. If he weren't careful something like that would keep him occupied all day. Chloe's house was not close, so Clark made sure no one was around before breaking into a run.

Halfway there he slowed down, and not by choice. He was feeling tired. His breathing was becoming laboured. He had to jog the rest of the way, which was worrying; it seemed like the beam exposure was catching up with him somehow. He wondered if it was just a delayed effect or if it would keep getting gradually worse. No time to worry about it though – he had too many other concerns on his mind.

Eventually he reached Chloe's house and paused outside to catch his breath. His heart was pounding, and he had to calm himself before knocking on the door. It opened and Chloe stood before him.

His stomach dropped and his chest tightened. For a brief moment he thought she was carrying a bunch of meteor rocks, but then he realised it was his own natural reaction to seeing her alive and well.

'Chloe,' he managed. 'Thank god.'

'Clark?' Chloe queried. 'What's wrong? You look sick.'

'I can't explain right now. Listen, Chloe. I need you to do something for me.'

'OK?' Chloe said warily.

'I need you to go to the Talon and meet me there.' He tried to think of an easy way to explain what was going on, but he couldn't. 'I probably won't remember coming round here, but you have to tell me to go meet a guy called Hugh Jameson at the warehouse on Temp street. OK?'

Chloe looked quizzically at him, as if trying to work out which part of his request to take issue with first. Finally she said, 'Clark, what the hell?'

Clark hung his head in impotent frustration. 'Please, Chloe. Just meet me in the Talon, OK? I don't have time to explain.'

'And tell you to meet this Hugh Jameson guy at the warehouse?' She finished, still clearly puzzled.

'Yes,' Clark said with relief. 'Please. Thank you.'

'When?'

Clark looked at his watch, which he'd reset to the correct time. 'Now, please. Don't worry – I'll be there by the time you arrive.'

'Well, OK,' said Chloe reluctantly. 'But I'll expect a better explanation – any explanation at all – when I get there.'

'Sure, Chloe,' lied Clark. A thought suddenly hit him. 'And Chloe – Whatever you do, don't go to the warehouse. Please. Do not go to the warehouse. It may not be safe.' He gave her his most sincerely concerned face.

Chloe seemed to sense the urgency of his request, and agreed not to go. She went back inside to gather her things and Clark left, reluctantly. He wanted to spend more time with her while she was still all right, but he needed to get to Webb before it was too late again. He wondered where he might be able to find him, and decided the warehouse might be a good bet.

He was still finding it hard to run with any speed, and was beginning to develop a headache. If he were human he might have compared the feeling to waking up with a hangover and knowing it was going to get worse as the day progressed. He struggled on and reached the warehouse, but there was nobody around. Damn, he thought. That left him with two options. He could wait for Webb to show up and try to shoot Jameson, or he could make his way to Hamilton's lab and see if he could stop Webb from there.

The problem with the first option was that the Webb who would be turning up here would be the second Webb. He might stop him killing Jameson and Chloe if he was lucky, but the first Webb would still be around to cause trouble.

The problem with the second option was that Hamilton's lab was not only full of meteor rocks but was all the way over the other side of town. Clark was really not sure he could make it that far; he was feeling weaker and more breathless by the minute.

He looked around desperately for inspiration and, as luck would have it, spotted an old bicycle lying in a skip in the courtyard. He retrieved it and managed to bend the frame and wheels back into a serviceable shape. It was a long time since he'd had to ride a bike, but he managed not to fall off.

It was hard going, but he still had enough energy to give a few vehicles a run for their money on the way across town. At one point he was almost knocked down by something absurdly fast flashing past him in the opposite direction, but he chose to ignore it.

He reached the lab and this time approached it from the back. He was sweating like a pig now, and swinging between extremes of hot and cold. His limbs were shaking, and he staggered over to a window and slumped to the floor. Every beat of his racing heart pounded on the inside of his skull. He strained his ears to listen for any sounds inside the lab.

'He doesn't know anything about this, does he?'

'Who? Who doesn't know what?'

'Don't play innocent with me, friend. Lex Luthor knows nothing about your little project, doesn't he? And after the trouble I took to obtain his briefcase, as well. I bet he'd be very interested to find out what his precious particle accelerator was really being used for.'

Clark recognised the voices as belonging to Webb and Hamilton. He'd been hoping that he'd arrived before Webb, so he could stop him before he entered the lab; but he was too late again. Clark could feel the weight of the meteor rocks pressing down upon him even through the wall. There was no way he could get inside to do anything.

He cursed himself again. What could he possibly do now? He could achieve nothing here now that Webb was safely inside Hamilton's lab. Clark's earlier self would be here soon, and then everything would happen all over again.

He tried to think, but his brain was beginning to cloud. If he could do nothing here, he might at least be able to prevent Chloe from getting shot again. He made up his fatigued mind and staggered back onto the bike. It felt like he was trying to cycle through treacle, yet he persevered. His limbs grew heavier with every turn of the pedals, yet he persevered. The pounding in his head threatened to crack his skull, yet still he persevered.