“I — I — uh, okay?” The doubt in her voice may be due to the fact that they are outnumbered and surrounded.

She shakily climbs to her feet.

"Trust me, okay?"  Tim pours all of the warmth and reassurance he's capable of projecting into his voice.  "I've got you.  You're going to be okay.  I'm going to walk over near this stupid puppet on your right, and I'm going to smash it barehanded.  And when I smash it, you just run into the hallway."  Tim sidles up to the right-hand guard, stops about two feet away.  Tim enters a stance.

Left foot pointing at the guard, Tim's front mostly towards the audience.  Right foot pointing towards the audience.

His left hand forms a fist at his right hip, crossing his body.

Does the weird mannequin react?

The mannequins may be featureless, but they are not completely still. The guards have some amount of body language, and what it’s saying is “confident, in charge of keeping order here, and watching you in particular”. They do not seem to be concerned about Tim.

"The word is 'smash'.  You just go for the hallway, don't worry about me.  It's going to be easy."  I hope?  He looks like he'd win a fight.  Not with me, I hope.  But.  Stop it, Tim, you have a plan.  Execute.  Deep breath in.

Tim turns almost away from the monster.  Really?  It's just going to let me?  He's reaching all the way down to his right hip with his left hand, maybe a little further than that even.

His fist snaps up from his hip, his hips twist, uncoiling the stored kinetic energy.  His torso muscles are recruited, to help complete the spin.  His shoulder muscles add momentum, and most of the work done by his bicep and forearm is making sure that his fist ends up where it needs to go: right in the torso of the creepy-ass mannequin.  And to cap everything off, for four-tenths of a second Timothy Bartholomew Delgado is the strongest human being in this dimension. 

The strike is a little tiring, to Tim.  How's the mannequin looking?

The mannequin reaches for him as if to grab his shoulder, but does not complete the motion before his fist smashes into its oaken torso. Wood cracks around his fist. The mannequin, only about 70% of the mass of a human of the same size, smashes into the back wall and slides down to land on its hip joints, then starts getting up again.

The left guard is moving toward him. The victim is too, but she is unsteady on her feet and not going to reach him first. The audience is getting up from their seats.

"SMASH!"  Drop your power, skip towards the left guard because it's the only one left, heh heh, focus Tim.  Legs together, lift your left leg, augment and Tim's left leg slams out like a piston aimed at the remaining guard's abdomen-equivalent.  More of them, shit.  Step down with the left leg, pivot and his right leg lashes out in a back kick aimed at the 'skull' of the first 'guard'.  Does that even count as a skull?

Guards down: 2
Guards with their heads kicked off: 1
Guards getting up again: 2
Audience: incoming (at a walking pace)
Victim: shakily running for the door Tim came in

Okay, walking speed, no problem, I can recruit the vic if I need to.  I've made space, I'm in a good position.  Tim will use microbursts of low-dose power to smash the now-headless guard until it stops moving.  If you can figure out what critical part of the puppet keeps it alive, that would be swell.

It does not seem to have a heart, brain, or soul gem, but when he has broken off all of its arms and legs, it doesn’t move any more.

Stinkhole is going to be so smug when she finds out about this.  This isn't the first time he's seen monsters where you have to dismember them to kill them.  "Doing alright, ma'am?"  Skip backwards to the hallway, glance over his shoulder to make sure she hasn't run all the way out.  "Remember, just stick with me, you'll be fine.  These guys are chumps, really, they're just bullies."

Tim is still in a pretty good position.  His ward is behind him, the monsters are in front of him, they're non-threatening and frankly the only reason he doesn't Just Leave is because he's concerned about getting followed the whole time by slow-zombie speed puppets.  Is he a good enough shot to dismember mannequins with his non-monstrous pistol?  Only one way to find out.

Non-monstrous bullets don’t seem to do much to monstrous limbs unless he gets lucky and jams up a joint with a bullet stuck in it, which just makes them hobble.

The victim has reached the door and is starting to open it.

No point burning ammo for no benefit.  Sidearm: holstered.  "Easy, there, just hang tight for a minute.  This won't be a big problem.  Remember, I can protect you, but only so long as I can find you."  Tim will stand well in front of his rescuee and sidekick every leg he sees, then make a decision about whether he wants to stamp on arms afterwards.  Only a little bit of strength this time, "only" enough to break a normal human's shin.

Their wooden shins are quite breakable! There’s a lot of them, but they don’t have any tactics smarter than “walk forward”. But perhaps Tim would rather follow his victim his rescuee out the door?

Actually Tim would in fact prefer that Victim remain right the fuck where she is!!! "Hey, whoah, easy, give me a second here!  I'm like, halfway done!  Look at me for a second, okay?  Just watch!  It's like a zombie movie, the kind where you get out at the end!"  Tim intersperses perhaps every fifth word with a sidekick.  Is this worth a trickle of backlash?  Maybe yes.  Victim gets just the smallest possible fraction of power, just enough that Tim can orient to her.

This gets her to wait in the doorway. By the time Tim finishes his sentence, the ten remaining undamaged mannequins are struggling with the conundrum of their path being obstructed by their fallen comrades.

There's no need to derive a tactical advantage from uneven ground when your opponent is ambulatory target practice.  Tim will let them draw forward, and smash their legs, then smash their arms.  He hasn't even really broken much of a sweat, except in the sense that he's thrown about forty sidekicks in the space of two minutes.

Total backlash accumulation: About a minute.  Total time elapsed: maybe five minutes?  Tim could check his watch, but he'd rather check his victim rescuee. 

Less afraid, more tired. Not going anywhere. Awkwardly standing in the door.

"See?  The thing about dungeons, right, is that they grab only people who are vulnerable in that moment.  You could probably fight these goons off if you had so much as a pipe wrench."  And weren't outnumbered twenty to one, and had the temperament for it.  "What's your name, ma'am?  Are you feeling alright?"  Tim gives his charge a once-over, with his eyes and the barest trickle of his power.

What's her condition?