Late afternoon — Big Shots try their approach.
Junkil dances on the shore, voice low and broken:
“si—si—still… STOP, do not fight… -.- .-.. .--.” (a strange stuttering chant, part Morse, part lullaby.)
Junkil’s voice slows the thrash. The cadence is uncanny — the Gyarados’ great jaw opens, listening. The monster’s eyes flit between the singing and Luigi’s slow approach.
Luigi steps forward slowly, barefoot on wet sand, palms open, hands trembling. He remembers his statue-days: the stillness, the observation. Now he uses that calm to move gently.
Steve leads a soft line of steps; Binah intones a single low binding murmur (not hurting the creature, just giving it a sense of boundary).
Springtrap holds the net at a distance, not to trap but to anchor the platform.
Dialogue-heavy moment:
Junkil (leaning forward, glitch-croon): “fre—free—fr̵e̴e̷. come… come… hush . . .”
Luigi (quiet, earnest): “It’s okay… it’s okay… we just want to be friends.”
Steve (soft, to Junkil): “Keep singing. Don’t stop.”
Binah (firm): “If it thrashes, we’ll step back. Safety first.”
Slowly, the Gyarados ceases thrashing. It breathes deep, water dripping from its whiskers. It lowers its head slightly — a monumental pause in the lagoon. The whole island seems to hold its breath.
Mewo (softly): “Interesting. Different tactics. One uses fear and force. The other… invites.”