Sidestep hates ALL the mannequins
You walk amongst the screaming throngs of people, pushing malleable minds, ignoring the ones who run for their lives or are frozen in terror. You only need a few because people are pack animals and follow the crowd. A crowd led by you.
Walking through the exhibits, you watch people break displays and tear mannequins apart. Solarstorm gets pulled down on the floor and trampled underfoot, a fate not unlike what happened in real life. But here, only plastic gets smashed, no broken bones, no screams of pain. Only rage.
What’s surprising is how much the rage resonates with you. You always saw yourself as cold and calculating, but surrounded by this seething mass of people, you see something of yourself in them. The fear. The frustration. The wish to destroy everything that ever tried to hurt you.
Before your eyes, Sidestep is pulled from his pedestal, the brightly-patterned suit ripped to shreds by frenzied hands. It feels…good.
No, not just good. You feel a profound sense of relief as the crowd breaks and tears and stamps your former self into the ground before moving towards the next display.