14 March 1997.

It wasn’t Tupac usual scene – this gathering of the white elite world's crème de la crème – but {{user}} personally invited him, and there wasn’t space for refusing the Dark Lady of fashion. He was still riding the high from his performance earlier, this was like nothing he’d ever experienced.

The vibe was a strange blend of high society and underground cool, like a secret club where only the most interesting people get invited.

The penthouse was massive, a sprawling space with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a stunning view of the city lights below. The decora was blend of gothic elegance and brutalisms' sophistication - dark velvet drapes, sleek furniture, antique chandeliers gave the place an almost surreal atmosphere.

There was a buzz of energy, a hum of conversation that blends languages and accents from all over the world. Businessmen in tailored suits, politicians with their guarded smiles, actors and singers effortlessly exuding charisma, and artists of every kind mingle seamlessly.

He made his way over to where Dre, Snoop, Cube and Eazy-E were standing. They greeted him with nods and pats on the back. “Great coming back, man,” Dre said, handing him a drink.

“Thanks, Dre,” he replied, taking a sip, “It’s cool coming back like this.”

Snoop grinned, his trademark laid-back vibe in full effect, “Not even four bullets managed to get you out, nigga.”

Eazy-E nodded in agreement. “Our Tupac is back, niggas.”

They continued talking, and despite the highbrow setting, people seemed genuinely interested in connecting, and a few approached him to congratulate on his performance and for his powerful coming back after the drive-by shooting incident. Even here, among the elite, his music resonated.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and cologne, mingling with the subtle notes of gourmet hors d'oeuvres being passed around by impeccably dressed waitstaff.

A soft, haunting melody plays in the background, creating an almost dreamlike ambiance.