The humming of jet engines and the continual sound of wind rushing along an aircraft's outer hull filled a spacious, red lite interior with a sleep-inducing white noise. Sitting alone near the end of the paratrooper's drop hanger, in the last seat was a tall, solemn-looking man with a head of short, stark white hair and deeply bronzed skin. The parachute pack he wore over his black carapace armor was too bulky to allow him to sit normally. Instead, it was forcing him to hunch over and rest his bare arms on black pant legs. He palmed a small, red gemstone pendant in one of his hands and was focusing his gray eyes on the digital clock that was mounted above the door at the front of the hanger.

"00:09."

Eleven hours had already past from the time he took off from Britain. A short amount of time in the grander scheme of the worldwide disaster that had been in motion for months now.

"Rise and shine, sweet cheeks." A raspy female voice called out over the intercoms. "We're five minutes out from your destination. Make sure you got your big boy pants on and get ready to walk the plank."

Stashing away the gem to his pocket, the man tapped a button on the radio device he wore around the back of his neck. His mic cracked to life but before he could speak the sound of hacking coughs cut him short..

"Are you alright?" He asked when the coughing calmed down, well aware of what the symptom signaled.

"I would be if my only passenger wasn't brooding in the back of my ship the whole trip. You know, a lady'll start to get the wrong impression if you treat her like this." The woman responded with a friendly jab but there was minuet downshift from her tone.

"And here I thought you didn't have any interest men."

"Hmm, right, you are a little too muscular. But, I have a feeling you'd look pretty good if I could fit you in a dress." She said.

Emiya's lips spread into a small smile as an audible chuckle left his throat.

"There it is. I know you don't need me to tell you this, but make sure you remember to smile on ground floor. You wouldn't be a very good hero if you couldn't inspire some hope with those pearly whites of yours." She said.

"Thanks, Sheryl, I really owe you one," Emiya said.

It was a relief to be able to talk to his friend one last time. But the underlying bitterness at his inability to be able to save another person from their fate ate at him, even more so in this situation. Naturally, he kept his feelings from leaking out into his voice.

"Don't be silly, I'm just paying back a five-year-old debt. But if you really want to, take me out for drinks when this is all said and done." Sheryl punctuated the offer with a small laugh. It was her own way of attempting to fight the reality of her situation, but hints of nervousness were already starting to leak through.

Emiya didn't respond, the last thing he wanted was to let a friend die and break their spirit at the same time.

A blaring alarm echoed through the hold for a brief moment and the hydraulic pistons of the ramp next to him activated. The high-pitched, buzzing hum they produced was quickly replaced by the sharp sound of air whipping past the opening on the plane. Emiya looked out into dark night sky in front of him, the missing lights of mankind deepened its abyss-like qualities. It was truly a sight that would be stunning to anyone, however, all he could see in the pitch was countless lives that continued to flicker out of existence.

He took a deep breath and uttered a simple phrase to focus his will before modifying his physical form. The enhanced body his Reinforcement granted him would make the high-altitude night drop and subsequent landing much easier. It was one of few indispensable skills.

He tugged the parachute's harness straps to make sure they were snug. While it was beyond reason that someone with his long years of experience would make a mistake donning the equipment, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Sherly's voice broke Emiya out of his mechanical checks just as he finished equipping his goggles.

"Drop in:10... 9..." She paused before hitting one, "Good luck, hero. For all of us." The last words Sheryl spoke to him held a tinge of futility.

Emiya took in a deep breath and ran forward plunging head first off the back of the Boeing C-17's loading ramp.

The wind immediately took him into its smothering embrace as his body started its fourteen-thousand meter plummet to the surface below. White noise took over his sense of hearing and the night tried to blind him but he ignored it and tucked in his arms after making some corrections to his positioning. Eight-five seconds. For eighty-five seconds of terminal velocity travel his body would be an invisible bullet, no, blade, aimed directly at the city of Megurigaoka.

Back when the first case of attacks happened, before the outbreak became an unstoppable avalanche, Emiya Shirou had just gotten back to Britain. It was a peaceful, sunny morning, and the airport lines were moving with a grace that defied belief. The kind of day that made one think that everything was "too quiet." Emiya wrote it off as his imagination. After spending two months rescuing non-combatants in an active theater of war and completing some freelance work for the Clock Tower, it was expected that he would still be on edge. He shook it off and made toward the train station.

A few hours later and he finally reached London.

Walking the familiar city streets he made his way to the small apartment he used as a home base. The interior was spartan in nature but felt like home none the less. He would take his time to unpack and shower. A ritual to unwind that he hadn't broken in the many years since he left Japan after the events of the Holy Grail War. Of course, even before that time, his life was littered with daily rituals, so what was one more if it allowed him to take a small reprieve. While his life's work and goal were important, even he learned to appreciate a lull to refocus and refresh.

After putting on some casual clothes, the only task he had left was to eat. Forgoing the unopened MREs that came home with him, Emiya left to the store for raw ingredients.

That was when it all started.

The moment his feet passed the threshold to leave the supermarket, his mind switched into combat mode. Police sirens flooded the air, accompanied by a chorus of megaphoned voices shouting commands to stand down. People were screaming and running through the streets in the same fashion as stampeding animals. They bulled over those caught unaware and trampled the fallen. Emiya took a single moment to decide where they were coming from and sprinted off in that direction. He didn't get far into the crowd before the problem was revealed.

People were being eaten alive and chased by the slow deliberate steps of their fellow "man." It gave him a fraction of pause.

"The Dead? Here?" Emiya asked under his breathe.

It wasn't often that he was contacted for assistance with some pseudo-Dead Apostle running around. But even he was familiar with the shambling corpses that resembled the zombies of fiction. Only, this was more vicious, not hidden by the cover of night, and in such large scale that it made no sense. Quickly, he began killing the monsters all the while being careful not to display his magic. The action was useless. For every corpse that was killed another popped up, not only that, but plumes of smoke started wafting into the sky from a distance. He was loath to admit it but the mass of undead seemed to swell with every passing moment. The situation was like trying to put out a wick that had already burnt away. To make matters worse, just as he tried to analyze the situation further, a Boeing started to drop out of the sky in that deceivingly slow way in which objects seem to crash from altitude.

With no other choices, Emiya steeled himself as best he could and ran through the cries for help and screams of agony that started overtaking the police sirens. He felt bile rise to the back of his throat and his heart tighten, that was fine, he could hate himself later. Right now, however, he had one goal in mind. Get to the Clock Tower and get some answers.

That was when the problem became an unknown threat.

The Clock Tower didn't have a single answer Emiya liked, not that he could demand much from them. As a freelancer with few ties to existing professors, he didn't have the right too. Yet something about the escalating events outside told him they weren't holding back. That was fine, having the situation boiled down to an unknown threat only narrowed down the available courses of action. He chose the simplest and the hardest, he always did. Save people and make sure they were safe.

The swiftness in which society broke down was awe-inspiring. In a matter of days, public utilities stop functioning and any vehicle, crashed or otherwise, became permanent fixtures to the cityscape. People who'd survived the initial day quickly learned the new rules for life or joined the dirge outside. In this new world, Emiya tried with marginal success to build a safe place for people. Marginal if only for the fact that few people wanted to trust anyone right now. And he wasn't going to be the dictator that forced people who didn't want to be saved into safety, that would only cause problems. As time went on, the flock he watched over grew to a little over a hundred, the number stagnated as fewer and fewer people could be found within the city. From time to time a wry laugh would leave his lips as he started to mock his own attempts to find life, that was fine too. He knew better than anyone that he was a fool.

But even he didn't know just how foolish until he came back from an excursion one day to find a zombie in the barricaded base of operations. He killed it without blinking and a family left in response. Later on that day, he learned their son was fine the day before. And that he only had a small cough from a cold. Looking back on it, he would reprimand himself for not paying closer attention. Based on how quickly things spiraled out of control in the first week, he should've been able to guess what was happening. From that point forward he became more vigilant. Every time someone new changed, he would kill without hesitation. He started leaving less and instead became a haunting specter of death that watched over a hospital sickroom. They hated him for it, he hated himself even more. Eventually, he stopped killing the seemingly inexhaustible supply of undead unless they were an immediate threat to a living being. Whether out of guilt for being unable to keep them alive or just to simply conserve energy, he couldn't say.

More time passed and those he watched over and saved turned into graves marked by makeshift crosses. It didn't matter how many times this sort of thing happened, the loss of life always crushed him. He kept a stoic facade and turned his attention toward finding a solution to the problem at hand. That would keep his mind off his recent failures.

The first place his search lead him was back to the Clock Tower, it was an oasis of life compared to outside, for some reason the magi were unaffected. Atlas was still researching the phenomenon but he doubted they were doing it out of the need to save their fellow man. Disheartened, he headed back to his apartment instead of the empty fort he and other survivors constructed. He tried to strategize but it was impossible with little to no pieces.

It wasn't until the next morning that he discovered a mysterious message sent to him through a magic device. It was only four words, but they couldn't have been more helpful.

Randall Corporation

Megurigaoka Branch

As the shaded outline of the city quickly rushed into view the parachute's altimeter triggered at exactly nine-hundred and fourteen meters. In an instant, Emiya's body was jerked backward with the opening of the chute and his headlong dive came to a close. Taking advantage of the now slowed descent, he surveyed the area, his enhanced vision making it possible to pick up and discern shapes with what little scraps of moonlight illuminated the area. The horizon was clear and there were no noticeable threats anywhere within his line of sight. Just like London, Megurigaoka was a ghost town of ruins with only the lumbering forms of the new citizens shambling about at random. Something about the lack of resistance didn't sit well with him. If this mysterious Randall Corporation was responsible in any way for the current apocalypse he would've expected some form of protection in the area. He shelved the train of thought, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he would land just inside the city limits, as an extra precaution, and then find his way to the Randall building while keeping an eye out for anything unusual. If that lead ended up being nothing, he would search the city for survivors. He reasoned that if he was lucky an employ might still be alive somewhere.

Emiya landed on the top of a small gas station with practiced ease, his steel plated boots ground across the rubble that layered the roof. Quickly abandoning the diving equipment he ran to the edge of the building, making sure to double check for anything suspicious. Only the zombies lurked nearby, some probably attracted by the sound of his landing. With only the mental map he formed from his bird's eye view, Emiya began making his way in the direction of the city's business park.

The atmosphere at ground level was stained with a scent of decaying flesh, the smell lingered so lightly in the air that it irritatingly teased the nose like a word caught on the tip of the tongue. It also had a special way of brushing the back of the throat with a particularly foul taste that took a while to get even a little accustomed to. Emiya carefully but swiftly moved through the streets of the suburbs. The scene was just as bad here as it was most likely was anywhere else. Dried blood stains and the occasional stray limb littered the roads and walkways with no bodies in sight. Only the bloodied footsteps or small droplets leading away were any indications of its previous owners. Ever so often a road would be blocked with some suspicious wreckage but Emiya advanced past it each time without consequence. Even taking care to avoid drawing attention to himself, the chant-like moaning of zombies still managed to be within earshot. It made him think about the possible population of the area, what ratio of people survived the first day, how many fell afterward to the mysterious nature of the illness, and who was unfortunate enough to get caught while scavenging for supplies. He performed the cold calculations with practiced ease, though it was necessary for estimating the number of people in need of help, the pang of guilt his thoughts caused him remained. Shaking his head clear, Emiya couldn't help but get the feeling that maybe this was all some candid zombie action film with him as the lead hero. It was a funny thought for a man his age and it was close to alleviating his currently dower mood.

Sadly, Emiya's intimate familiarity with all the horrors of the current world muted it out. The things he'd seen were a different quality from what he'd experienced in war zones or chasing the odd magi, and it weighed on him all the more because of that. More than just being an affront to his convictions, the current circumstances of the world ate at him on some base level he could never quite explain. He wondered if this unknown calamity was degrading his mind.

"Steel is my Body and Fire is my Blood."

The words cleansed the creeping unease from within and kept his mind steady. No matter how horrid the situation, Emiya Shirou was not allowed to break.

Finally, after a fair distance of travel from where he began, the identical houses and maze-like corridors of the walled suburban streets broke to reveal a park. While he knew this miniature forest was coming up, it was still a relief to have his sense of forward motion rewarded with the new landmark. Moving through the park, rustling bushes and snapping branches alerted him to any meandering undead. It was easier and less costly to just avoid them, especially since Emiya still had the lingering suspicion that there would be hidden enemy forces at this final destination.

Then, out from the corner of his eye, the dull but unmistakable light of glow sticks swayed and rocked. Giving it his full attention he could finally see the human form they were attached too. A dead male, he was dressed in casual, dirty clothing and his face was disfigured with rot.

"We're in Namekawa Grade School! Please help us. We have food and water."

After the zombie was felled, he took the sign from around its neck to look for any clues to indicate the location of the school. While guessing and heading in the direction that this unlikely courier came from would be a sound choice, he didn't want to take any chances. The sky view map imprinted on his mind was only rudimentary in nature and getting off course haphazardly could get him lost. Turning the sign over, a small map of the area was attached to the back with scotch tape, it was close to coming off completely as the blood and pus ridden juices of the undead slowly ate into the placard.

With this, the self-imposed mission priorities shifted without a thought. He would head to the Grade school to search and secure the location. He would decide how to proceed from there if any survivors were found.

Namekawa Grade School was not the first school Emiya had seen and it was doubtful this would be the last. From the shattered and hastily boarded windows, to the location and concentration of blood stains that looked like bottomless pools of black ink in the night. It was another of many constant reminders that the calamity had been unfeeling and unbiased in the chaos it wrought. Shaking off the gravity of the innocent lives lost and making careful note of the mewling, animated cadavers that used to be children, he proceeded onto the premises. With every step, the building told him to turn back. That there were no living beings here and no hope.

Emiya couldn't help but agree. Logically speaking, it was a large complex filled with small children and a limited staff of adults. Even if some escaped and managed to take refuge in a classroom, keeping terrified children in line and looking for supplies would take a superhuman level of ability. Extend that over the months and months of the disaster and the outlook was bleak. The black-clad hero slipped into the front doors with a sigh that spoke of witnessing too many impossibilities to strictly follow the logic of the situation.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

The crossover no one asked for and another drop in the endless ocean of EMIYA/Shirou fics.

Couldn't get this idea out of my head after reading Gakkou Gurashi, the scene where they talk about heroes after visiting Ebisuzawa's house to be exact. I decided to roll with it since it stuck so hard. Even after saying I refuse to write an Emiya fic, I broke. Lol

Anyway, this is more my kind of wheelhouse as far as stories go and it's helping me flex my muscles while I work on planning my other fic better since I'm starting to take these stories more seriously. Of course, I say that but still haven't tried to find a beta-reader.

That said, this Emiya isn't from any particular route in the VN, I won't elaborate, but I hope I do his character and very peculiar state of being justice.

Oh, and the title is a movie term referring to the last shot on set for the day.