He walks around the examining table one last time. Keenly taking in the still, limp form. The sweat-soaked costume had lost it's garish brilliance. He notes the streaks of gray and wrinkles around the mouth and eyes. Gray and wrinkles which hadn't been there just 7 hours ago. Engorged black/green veins covered his formerly perfectly chisled face and his body - the ridiculously tight uniform now soaked through clung even closer to that body revealing beneath it an array of web-like lines, swollen veins, criss-crossing his chest, arms and legs. His face now looked alien - which it was, which he was. He'd told them this all along but they mostly wouldn't listen. Women, Lois especially, and not a few men had ogled the alien's body for years, had "wanted" his body. They'd feel differently now if they could see the grotesque looking creature laying there. And they would see the alien like this. He would make sure of that. They would see what he had always known was underneath.
He walks over to a side table containing items he'd earlier taken out of the pouch on the inside of the cape. Carefully placing them in a small box. All but one. A pair of glasses. He tosses them to the floor and crushes them with his foot. He won't be needing these anymore he murmers to himself.
The cape, boots, belt, tights, trunks and shirt he would later take when he dissected and then disposed of the alien's body. He was having a trophy room built and the infamous costume would be it's centerpiece.
After all these years – finally. Turning to leave the lab, he switches off the lights – the room is almost pitch black except for a dim green glow that emanates from the motionless form.
He sits down at a console and prepares to broadcast to the world a terse message. A message that would be broadcast not just across the Earth, but into space and, over time, reach every corner of the universe. The video of the alien's last hours right now was his alone to enjoy in the privacy of his study with his favorite cigar and wine. But eventually it too would be released to the world and the universe.
For now though three short sentences, three powerful words are broadcast.
Words he knew he would utter one day, words the world thought it would never hear.
It is over.
The mighty heart has stopped beating.
Superman is dead.
