Nothing is more alive than an automaton. The way their insides tick like actual clocks and how basic emotions such as love and pain have no real impact on how they live their totally non-manufactured lives. And yet people believe the lies of most robots having to obey certain "laws" and "regulations" and completely the ignore the fact that there are literally thousands of these creatures walking among us, surrounding you and everything you do. It would come as no surprise if you happened to be in contact with any such robotic entity at this very moment. Though it is more than likely this automaton is earth-based, with human sensibilities akin to those of a classic Homo sapien. They might get unreasonably angry or rationally furious, or show emotions somewhere along those lines. They might even fall in love, and that love they find might be with a human or a ridiculously inferior model of some vacuum or lamp. They might even feel pain every once in a while, a sharp tingling when something burns them, a sharp sting when something hits hard enough to cause a bruise, a sharp prick when something stabs them. Lots of sharp feelings mostly.
That's what Ore could feel, and Ore knew nothing but pain. Coursing through his alien body, there was nothing he knew more of and nothing he wished less of, even though he knew of literally nothing else. A robotic entity, similar to the ones discussed above but more foreign, whose sole purpose was to act as a catalyst for the MAGMA power flowing inside his host, of which he did not have one. Did this make it better or worse, Ore did not know. Ore had his own MAGMA energy stored up in order to remain functional and even though that small amount of energy was the source of his suffering, whatever human part inside of him prevent him from using the last of his energy and extinguishing his unfortunate and rather useless life. So he spent his days twitching, his months shifting, his years itching and his decades dying, dying to die. That was all Ore had to live for until he showed up one day.
He was a boy, either sixteen or twenty-four Ore couldn't tell, and you'll hear from them both that the meeting was a complete accident but only one will say it with unbridled joy. The other would be Ore. The boy's name was Mathew McNelson and he couldn't have been in the worst place at a more horrific time in Ore's opinion. For coursing through Matt's veins, just as they had coursed through his father's before him, was the MAGMA energy that kept Ore in his state of constant pain. But of course neither Ore nor Matt would know this until they linked up, and from that point on there was literally no turning back. So almost immediately, after wandering too far into the facility he was told not to wander too far into, Matt's head was full of screaming. It was inhuman screaming that sounded more like pieces of metal rubbing up against each other in violent acts of sexual tension. And pretty soon, Matt was screaming too.
"Quiet, quiet, quiet!" Matt had yelled until he strained his voice and then he whispered it hoarsely as he was carted to the hospital.
"Quiet... quiet..." Matt had said to his mother as she sat by his side in the hospital while he struggled to remain conscious.
"Quiet." Matt would snap to himself every once and a while after making his full recovery three weeks after the fatal incident that had felt him relatively unharmed, except for the parasitic creature which would do nothing to him expect cause him minor headaches every now and again if Matt left Ore on his own, to which Ore would start screaming again. And Ore really never stopped screaming, in fact, he probably got louder, it was just that Matt was a flexible boy and was able to easily adapt to the painful voice enterally shouting in his mind. But there was more to Ore's screaming than just the basic pain of the MAGMA energy which with Matt supplied him, there was also what Matt decided to do with that energy that would have sent tears streaming down Ore's face if Ore had a face or could cry.
The moment Matt linked with Ore, and he realized the genetic potential that laid before him, his first thought was the thought any boy between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four would have: "I'm a superhero now." And a superhero he became, though it was luckily a short-lived career. Crime in their city dropped significantly after the first report of a late-night mugger getting their face splatter across the pavement by a six-foot creature made entirely of metal, but that didn't mean it dropped everywhere else. Matt skipped school more and more until he stopped going altogether, and then it was MattOre time 24/7. And Ore could do nothing about it. His fate was decided the moment Matt decided to run away from home and fight crime all across America, and it was decided by Matt himself. Matt didn't want to unlink anymore, to give Ore any time to himself to "recharge." His robotic sidekick didn't need it, Matt claimed. And that's all Ore was thought of as. "A robotic sidekick."
Matt was in control now, and Ore was too weak to fight him. Matt would boost the two with power and demand a shape change, and Ore would be forced to comply. Anytime Ore would be too slow, Matt would fuel him some more as punishment for it didn't affect Matt the same way it affected Ore. Matt relished in the power, took every moment and bathed in it whenever he could, and he could do it whenever. It was unclear if Matt took any sort of gratification out of punishing Ore or if he simply used it as an excuse to power up to a limitless amount. Anytime Ore voice resentment, he would be punished. Anytime Ore made an attempt to "slow down" or "take a break," he would be ignored and would suffer the consquences. Anytime Ore brought up the fact his human psyche was deterring faster and faster, Matt would scoff with disbelief and silence Ore with a single, strict, "Quiet."
