DOGMA: The Dysphoric Odyssey of the Galvanic Mr. Adams by Jesse Mundy
“Mutiny, eh?” said {M}. “Just one moment, before you go and do something irreversibly stupid …” he added, walking briskly to the junk drawer. He threw it open. There were rubber bands abounding, and an absolute mess of earbud headphones, many that only specifically worked on a specific airline, for the specifically-sized plane that used them. They had specifically tied themselves to each other for all time. There was loose change, half a dozen takeout menus, and a subway map. And then, there was what {M} needed at the moment. He smiled at it.
{M} pulled a massive handgun out of the junk drawer and laid it on the counter. The isterlings all jumped at the sound of it. It was a laser gun, the kind that someone like Captain Dan Solo would carry on his hip. He slammed the door shut and picked up the blaster.
“Scallywagger enough for you, dickwads?” He pointed the weapon at the crate. “Okay, proceed with the friggin’ shenanigans.”