His blood is red.

It occurs to Lex in that moment that, no matter how many times he's seen Superman weakened, he's never seen The Alien bleed.

Before today, Lex had always assumed that Superman's human appearance was nothing more than a pretense, an outer shell hiding an inner core that proved him The Alien Menace Lex knew him to be. He'd thought that, if he ever had the chance to get Superman on an operating table, that Lex would cut him open to find organs like nothing ever seen on Earth and veins, or the Kryptonian equivalent of such, filled with black tar. Or, in one of Lex's more whimsical moments, veins filled with ichor.

Lex could have his alien autopsy now if he wanted; it would be easy enough. He knew exactly what strings to pull to make sure that Superman's real body never made it to the inevitable memorial service. He could open The Alien up and find out exactly what lay inside.

Somehow the idea doesn't appeal to him.

The Man of Steel is dead. His body is broken, proving that no matter how invulnerable, The Alien Menace is not immortal.

And his blood is red.