Skeet was, without a doubt, a suicidal idiot.
He welcomed death like an old friend, and no, not just the horseman of the apocalypse Death, but death, the concept of no longer being. He was brash, and wreckless. He didn't care if he went out with a bang, or if he died in a more silent, subtle way. It didn't matter to Skeet, as long as it was quick.
Skeet wanted out. He didn't sign up for this… whatever this is. He wanted to play the Hollow tournament, and then get back to his normal, everyday life. But instead he was thrown into this disaster of a fake world, that somehow knew him on a deeply personal level.
He thought he'd just woken up into another level of the game, but he was wrong. This place, somehow, was life. As if reality and fiction were sewn together and crafted a whole new dimension.
Since this world seemed so similar to The Hollow Games world, Skeet figured that if he was somehow "killed", he'd pixelate away and he and his friends (teammates) would be set free into the real world.
He did everything he could to purposely put himself in danger. He stood, arms open and welcoming to the lasers being shot from the crafts in the air, he called out to the soldiers, he walked around the shape filled world without any hesitation. Hell, he cannonballed right off of a platform only to end up back where he was standing. He swore his theory of dying in the game would free them, and his companion's lack of faith was incredibly frustrating. He wished they'd just butt out and let him do things his way. At the very least, Adam, Kai, and Mira could stop trying to save him.
As he and the three were falling from the collapsing ruins of the tower, he didn't scream, or flail around midair. He kicked back and enjoyed the fall… until Kai saved him. If his companions and dare he say… friends… kept insisting on saving his sorry behind every five seconds, the very least he could do was try to enjoy the trip.
Ever since he'd woken up, Skeet's been miserable. All he wanted was to go home. Not the fake, digital home that was dimensions away within a Hollow gaming experience, but his own home, in the real world. He was sick and tired of being jerked around by every new challenge, and he longed to just be in his house, perhaps comfortably chilling on the couch, chowing down on his favorite foods.
However, since it was starting to seem like he'd be in the game for the long run, he was determined to at least try and have a little fun. Like sliding in the slime. It was like a ride in a water park, just a little more… sticky. His fun didn't last long though, because once he set eyes on the beast that had produced the slime, all he could feel was pure, unadulterated, fear.
He knew he couldn't stand by and watch the behemoth snail hurt his friend. Mira's shrieks of fear would forever be ingrained in his head. He had to do something. He had to save her. He attacked, successfully getting Mira out of danger. He knew he was walking into certain death. But now, he was conflicted, the words of the others bouncing through his brain.
"What if you're wrong?"
"What if you don't pixelate?"
"You can't take that chance."
He dangled in front of rows of sharp teeth, fear and resignation on his face when he realized that this was it. The snail was going to kill him.
"It's okay Meerkat." He smiled, although it was watery and he could barely hold back his tears. He didn't want Mira to blame herself. He had to assure her that this is what he had wanted. What he was meant for.
Pain. So much pain.
It was a mercifully quick death, as he'd hoped for. His limp body was tossed to the ground like a sack of garbage. He didn't pixelate. He died.
Skeet died to save a friend. He was selfless, and even though he had wanted out, he never deserved the fate he was given. He deserved better. He deserved to be happy, and live a full life.
The trio did their best to try and save him. But it was too late. He was dead before his body had even hit the ground. No amount of medicine or calls for help to Weirdy were going to bring him back.
Skeet was gone.