My name is Shimon I am an artist photographer with acute leukemia, I walked quickly to the entrance of the BPI where I snuck between the people in this queue, there I recognize people and we talk about things and others, but above all the risk of future attack by Daesh. After ten minutes of waiting, we can go home and I will find my place on the third floor.I will join my stooges to have coffee, I notice by going to the cafeteria, people who are not regulars of this place, I look at them. They settle down at different tables in the different floors, I see these same people getting up and waving TAVOR well concealed in their bags by firing in the air.After several hours that passed slowly, one could hear cries, cries and a vision of horror that crossed me, I could see young girls torn clothes "they had raped them" they come back to see us and they catch a young Girl to have fun, I'm interposing and I still get a blow to the head. There I plunge deep into a coma, I wake up again in this place, this city, my city. It's called UR and about 7000 years ago, everything comes back to me as I go along. I was a mercenary, I sold my know-how and weapons to the richest traders, who wanted to protect their caravans or warlords, who were looking for instructors to train their personal guards. But mostly I was a vampireI don't believe in the end of the world.But I was going to live the end of this world and I was going to rediscover my origins