La Macabre’s speakers screeched endlessly.
I think it was trying to psych me out. It was only mildly annoying.
Pilot and Captain created noises far worse as my “alarm clock”.
I considered growing a pair... of flesh ear plugs, but then realized my stupidity and simply cut the power to all of his speakers, cameras and microphones leaving the cottage voiceless, blind and deaf. Yeah! That’ll teach him!
I looked at myself with my thousands of eye-nodes. I looked like a horrid, webbed, corpuscle organ.
Since I no longer had a Murder Cottage to terrorize, I retracted my nightmarish smile made of tiny mushroom-shaped flesh.
Then, I removed the excessive numbers of strings from my person and the kitchen space, recombining them into a single umbilical cable that lead from my spine to the rest of the house.
Then I realized how it would get in the way, so I removed it entirely, focusing on controlling the cottage with my wifi horns. Heh, I now understood why so many of the Biomatrix avatars had horns - it was a nice communication system.
“Ah, precious comforts.” I tried to stand up.
The cottage suddenly careened off to one side as I temporarily lost control of it while being focused on my human body.
A gigantic ice cube slid from the fridge crashing into the floor. Glakr Bell’s butt was sticking out of it.
“MGUHGH GHEDHD.” Bell mumbled from underneath the ice, his throat speaker smooshed into the floor by its weight.
“Sorry” I answered Bell. I wasn’t sorry. Bell was a jerk and deserved worse.
I focused on my Biomewtrix avatar for company, since I didn’t want to talk to Bell’s butt.
“Yea, Charles! Well done!” The Biomewtrix laughed, her legs bouncing on my shoulders.
It… she no longer looked like a smool kitten. A Biomatrix catgirl was now sitting on my shoulders...
I outputted in surprise.
“Since I have a stronger connection to you Charles,
your imagination decides what my primary avatar looks and sounds like.”
She patted my head.
"...Plus, a lot of these dead G-Directors interacted with people mainly through secretary waifus."
“Hey! My imagination is not like that!”
"Stop that! Go back to being a spooky, scary, skeleton, lawyer G-damn it!"
I waved my arms in indignation.
“Perhaps you need to get your imagination under control, hmmm?”
She sounded like an anime character from my childhood.
Trying to focus my thoughts made her avatar only slightly more lawyer-y.
G-damn it, if I couldn't even manage my imagination, how was I supposed to steer an 8 legged cottage?