"So you mean to tell me that you don't remember anything about your shooting? You know I have to actually justify and write up a report about why I treated a gun shot victim right?" A man wearing a long white coat said while a nurse continued to wrap up Makavelli's shoulder.

The man was a doctor who owned his own private office. Tupac had heard of the man through connections on the streets. He was supposed to be a man who would treat any patient who could pay his fees and not ask too many questions. Apparently the information on the streets was right about only one of those parts.

As far as where Makavelli got the information from, well, bars certainly were a good source of acquiring information and not too many bartenders want a guy bleeding all over their bar. After escaping the scene at the hotel Tupac went in search of alcohol to numb the pain he was feeling. He stuck to the more shady ones knowing that they'd prefer to stay away from the authorities and certainly didn't want them visiting their establishments. It only took him to visit two before he was referred to a private doctor.

He got the address of the office, flashed some cash at the secretary and voila, here he was. The doctor briefly examined him, then called in his nurse to assist him in removing the bullet from his shoulder. He then set about treating it and was working on finishing that at this moment.

"You're supposed to handle all that. I'm just a victim here. A PAYING victim. And the word on the street was that you don't ask no questions as long as you're gettin' paid. Therefore I don't remember nothin' about how I got shot and that's the story we're rollin' with." Makavelli said leaving no room for argument based on his tone.

He was trying hard not to wince as he sat on the examination table while the nurse continued to bandage his shoulder.  Of course he was in pain even with drinking a fair bit of alcohol. He couldn't let himself get completely drunk seeing as it was hard enough to drive with one hand especially since it wasn't his primary hand.

The nurse continued on for about a minute before she took a step back to admire her work before telling the doctor she was done. He then nodded and told her that she could leave the room to check on the next patient. The doctor then went into one of the cabinets took down a bottle and then started writing something down on a piece of paper. He then handed Makavelli a bottle with medicine in it along with the paper.

"Here, take two of these whenever you feel some pain. Take no more than 6 every 24 hours. That is unless you have a death wish which, by the look of things, that may not be too far from the truth." He said almost dismissively.

Makavelli hopped off the examination table and tried to rotate his shot shoulder slowly just to test it. He came to find that trying to move it slightly caused intense pain. The doctor paid his pained gasp no mind as he begun writing down on another paper. Makavelli put the bottle of pills in one pocket and the slip of paper with the instructions written down in another. He then picked up his bloody shirt threw it over his shoulder, opting not to put it back on.

He then reached into his back pocket and took out a stack of money and slapped it down on the desk that the doctor was writing on.

"There's your money. I only got one more favor to ask you before I get outta your hair. You know of any motels around here?" Makavelli asked.

The doctor turned and picked up the stack of cash that was placed down on the desk. He picked it up and briefly examined it and flicked through it since it was wrapped up before looking at Makavelli.

"There's one about 3 miles up the road from here. Though if you have someone looking for you and they know you're injured it wouldn't be that hard for them to find you there. It's a pretty seedy place. The type where people go to hideout or if they'd rather not sleep on the street. Although based on what I hear the streets might be more preferable." The doctor answered impassively.

Makavelli was unfazed as he replied back. "It's all good. I've been in and out of fleabag motels the last little while. One more won't hurt. Hopefully I won't see ya around doc." He said as he made his way out of the door.

"Somehow I have a feeling that won't be the case." Makavelli managed to hear the doctor say before he fully got out of the room and made his way to exit the building.

Makavelli found himself riding in the passenger side of a car taking in the sights as he had finally crossed over the California state line. He'd been gone from his home for almost two weeks now and he was finally happy to be back in his state. It took a couple of days for him to even get on the road to head home as it was. After leaving the doctor's office he had found the motel the doctor told him about. He wasn't surprised to see it was just as rundown as the doctor had made it out to be. He'd been in some bad living spaces but this one took the cake. He didn't really wanna dwell on the couple of days he had to stay there as he waited for his good friend Franklin to come and pick him up.

Once Makavelli got into a room the first thing he did was call Frankie who was back home in Los Angeles. He told him he was stuck out in Vegas and needed a ride back home and that flying or doing anything else that exposed him was not an option. Thankfully his friend didn't ask too many questions other than where was his location. So after telling Frank where he was Makavelli laid low for the next couple of days while waiting.

He only went outside when he needed to get something to eat and always only to places within walking distance. After the first day he had taken the car he drove to the motel and ditched it nearby. It would do no good to lead any followers, police or otherwise, right to his doorstep. He didn't wanna make it that easy. He pretty much lived off of instant meals and alcohol the first day. Running to the window every time he heard a car pull into the parking lot with the gun he had clutched tightly in his left hand.

The second day he settled on a nearby diner. He made sure to eat quickly, tip normally and draw as little attention to himself as possible. That pretty much went against his usual style but these weren't exactly normal circumstances so he had no problem making an exception. He didn't get much sleep either night, constantly worrying and watching out for a possible unpleasant surprise of being found by his new foes. He knew he had left at least one alive and who knows where they were or what they were doing. He was still in their backyard after all.

On the third day, Frankie had arrived. He told Frankie that when he arrived, blow the horn three times and he'd be out. Frankie did and a very cautious Makavelli appeared and speed walked to his car, hopped in and demanded he get them the hell outta there. Most of the early part of the drive was spent with Makavelli explaining his side of the story to his old friend. Once he finished that he was then scolded about his recklessness by Frank to which Makavelli spent most of this time staring out the window, rolling his eyes, or trying to tune out his old friend. None of it was all that successful nor did it deter his friend but still it made it a bit more bearable. Tupac was in no mood to get into an argument right now neither, he'd had enough stress the last few days.

After that a companionable silence had fallen over the two with the radio being the only thing coming in between it. That was until Frankie got curious.

"So what're you gonna do when we get back to LA Pac? You gonna lay low for awhile?" Frank asked curiously while continuing to stare at the road ahead.

Tupac continued to look out of his window as he gave his answer. "Hell no. I ain't hiding from no one in my own home. And I'm tired of all this low profile shit. I gotta go home and get a change of clothes then I'm tryin' to go out tonight."

This drew a look from Frankie but it was just a side glance and it wasn't at him directly but at his shoulder.

"I think you should take it easy man. At least until you're shoulder gets better. You can't even do anything with your right arm for God's sakes." Frank responded.

Tupac rolled his eyes again and let out and exaggerated sigh. Before he was the one to look directly at Frankie while he continued to drive.

"Yo Frankie, chill. I'm good. I been doin' nothin' but takin' it easy these last couple days. I gotta get out there man. See some things, be with some people. Do my own thing. Let people know I'm back home. Plus the boss called me told me about coming in to see one of his business places so it'd do me some good to show my face in one of em." Tupac replied.

Frank tried to keep his attention on the road but his face showed how much he disagreed with this. Tupac decided he'd continue on and cut off his friend before he could voice his disagreement.

"Look Frank, we're good. Invite the homies and we'll all go out like we used to back in the day. It's been awhile since we all got together. Won't nothin' happen to me with all y'all around right? We gotta go out to party and bullshit Frankie. You know how it is." Tupac said with humor in his voice trying to put his friend's mind at ease.

Coincidentally at that time he happened to look down and spot an old news paper that was opened to a page of ads. On that page of ads was one for a club named The Babylon Club. He straightened it out and looked at it closely before lightly slapping Frankie on the arm and pointing at the ad. Frank briefly glanced at it and Tupac let out a little chuckle.

"I think I know just the spot to go head out to tonight." He said leaning back in his seat with a smile going back to looking out the window all the way until they arrived at their destination.