It takes a few minutes after everyone talks with the generic mannequin. The easygoing conversation, the bragging from Gant, Keith's exasperation, it all stops when a very heavy and ominous presence fills the room.
It's the Sergeant. He's standing on the doorway, arms crossed. The shadows on his face wriggle, he seems to be rather furious, but is restraining himself from lashing out
Slowly the Sergeant enters the workshop. Behind him, the door slowly disappears, fading away, until where the door was now there's only a smooth wall. The Sergeant raises an arm, the entire room shakes.

All the mannequins fly up to the ceiling, the one that was now Damon Gant turned back into the empty husk the mannequin was before. The one with a t-pose has the same fate. Once all the mannequins are up on the ceiling, the operation tables are uprooted, bolts and screws flying around. The tables are twisted in the air, formed into knots, disassembled and assembled all over again, until several rustic podiums are formed and deposited on the ground.

Seven podiums, with him at the center. The Sergeant crosses his arms and speaks:
Is it a rhetorical question? Who knows. You still have to answer, though