(Omake for Why Yes, I am an Evil Lair, by Automatonation.)

Omake: Necronomenclature

I glared at Tattletale. When this had no effect, I got a few zombies to do it, as well. "If we're going to be working together, we'll need to set up some ground rules."

Lisa, as she'd introduced herself once the mask came off, just grinned. "Whatever you say, boss-man!" She raised a flask of glowing blue mana potion. "After all, I already drank your Ghoulade."

I sighed. "First rule: Names."

The girl glanced to the side, where one of my minions trundled past. "Ooh!" She cheered. "Skulldozer!"

"I'm the one doing the naming, around here," I scolded.

"Wow!" Lisa pointed at another corner of the room. "Internet Server Ghost!"

I made my Zombie Commando fold its arms and start tapping a decomposing foot.

"'Interred' means 'buried'," mused the Thinker. "Interred-net? Internment-net?" She burst into hysterical giggles. "Try saying that three times, fast!"

"Who's running this dungeon, me or you?" I growled.

"Necromansion, technically," said Lisa. Before I could explode at her, she spun around again, and flourished a mock salute at another couple of my undead soldiers. "Hello there, Captain Corpse-mando," she chirped. "Looking good, Corporal Incorporeal! Keep that au-tomb-atic rifle ready, you never know when we might face another in-grave-asion."

Setting two of my zombies in motion, I had them grab Lisa by her upper arms, and drag her to the ooze-filled corridor.

"I'm sorry! Please don't, I promise I'll behave," she gasped, staring wide-eyed at the large firearms my minions were carrying. "I'm allergic to Uzis, y'know." She looked over her shoulder, and shuddered at the sight of my slime squad, roiling with hunger. "...And I'm not much better with oozies."

Watching her with quite a bit of suspicion, I let my zombies release her, but kept them close, just in case. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Tattletale."

She raised one hand in the air, and placed the other over her heart. "I swear! I won't even ask which one of your skele-mobsters is Al CaBone."

The badump-tish noise of a rim shot - or, as Lisa would no doubt call it, if she got the chance: A grim shot - filled my dungeon. Quickly moving my point of view to the source of the disturbance, I glowered at my zombie drummer. "Don't encourage her!"

Lisa was looking concerned when I returned, but not for her own health, it seemed. "You really need to relax, all those temper tantrums can't be good for your blood pressure," she warned me. "Or mana pressure, or whatever it is dungeons use instead of blood."

"Cut it out!" I hissed.

She gave a sombre nod. "Yes, surgery might become necessary, if you develop a corridor-vascular disease," she said.

I snarled at her, my zombies echoing my incoherent utterances.

Lisa snapped her fingers. "I've got it!" She gestured at my zombie horde. "Now that you have enough undead musicians for a full zomb-phonic orchestra, I'm sure you can spare one or two. Just have it making a constant, low moaning sound."

If I'd had regular eyelids, I would have blinked at her in bewilderment. "What in the Underworld are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard?" She grinned at me. "One of the best things to help a person relax, is a Wight Noise Generator."

"I should just have one of my minions strangle you," I grumbled. "Then, you could change your name to Death Rattle-tale."

Lisa waved a dismissive hand at me. "Nah, that's a terrible name." She suddenly perked up. "Ooh! I've been AllSeeingEye on PHO for a while, maybe I could change it to Sepulchral-Seeing Eye?"

Spinning around, I zoomed down the corridor. "I'm gonna go dig you a shallow grave."

"Wait! You can't leave yet," cried Lisa. "You haven't told me your own name, yet!"

I slowly turned back to look at her. "You can just call me Boss, or Master."

She tilted her head. "You don't even remember your own name, do you? That's so sad."

"Gee," I drawled. "If only there was someone here who had a habit of naming everything she saw, that'd be sooo helpful."

Lisa flashed a huge grin at me. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." She scrunched up her face in exaggerated thought, rubbing her chin with one hand. "Hmm... What about Terrence? That's a good name!"

"...Seriously?"

She nodded. "Absolutely! Only, since you're mostly made of rock and cement, you should be Cement-Terrence." Lisa's friendly smile morphed into a smirk. "Your friends could call you Cement-Terry."

I sighed.

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