Gabriel fumed. He rarely felt angry, he was naturally far too placid for ire, but everything that had befallen him the past while had made him bubble with ill-feeling. It started, just as it usually did with his brother walking out, going off 'travelling' or whatever it was that he did. He only ever came back to get his watch repaired and to leech money from his (only just) little brother. He looked around in despair at the remains of his once perfect little shop. The glass in the front had been shattered, it was now hastily boarded up, the glass cabinets smashed, countless timepieces destroyed, his workbench in tatters, his magnifying glasses and other lenses for the most delicate of repairs were crushed and useless. There was only two consolations for the poor man; firstly was the cheque made out to him for all the damage caused, and the second was, miraculously, his old 1917 timepiece, the one he had been working on for years, had somehow survived the melee unharmed, not even a scratch.
His life had been turned royally on its head when his mother was murdered. He wasn't the one to discover her body, but he heard how she'd been stabbed by a pair of scissors and there was blood everywhere. He wasn't going to pretend that he had much contact or love for her, as they hadn't spoken in some years, but she had still carried him in her womb for nine months and raised him. The shop shut for a week while he sorted out her will, money and things and could get himself together enough again to restart the delicate work that was his trade. The Monday morning that he re-opened, only half an hour after he switched the sign on the front door to 'open', a massive SWAT team had come crashing and smashing through his shop in a rather over zealous arrest of the poor watchmaker. He was beaten, shoved unceremoniously into the back of a truck and taken to a very secure, and probably underground holding cell where he was harshly interrogated for hours. They threw pictures at him, scenes of deplorable violence, in which there was blood everywhere, the tops of heads sawn off and brains, sickeningly, missing. They tried to get him to admit that he had perpetrated all these abominable crimes, topping it off with the stinging accusation that he had murdered his own mother. Gabriel had, in a mixture of anger and terror, rebutted every charge, and was able to provide proof that he was at a watchmaker's convention the night of his mother's murder. They were forced to let him go, apologising, saying their witness saw 'him' leaving the apartment on the day Virginia Grey was slaughtered. They gave him reparations payment for the damage caused to his shop, an insincere apology and a lift back home, acting as though it would make up for the trauma Gabriel had just been through.
As if that wasn't enough, he was still plagued by the thought of that Indian doctor who had waltzed into his shop, told him he was very special, given him a copy of his book and left. Gabriel had read it studiously, was intrigued by his theories, and gave him a call. They met up a few times, but they could find nothing that was so 'special' about him. They determined to meet up again, but Chandra was not there, and never returned his calls. At first he was upset, thinking that he had somehow offended the doctor, then got angry at how he might have been simply ditched for not displaying abilities so quickly. The next guy on his list – Brian Davies? - lit up Chandra's eyes far more than Gabriel did towards the end of the tests. He at least would have liked a call telling him that he was going to stop testing the watchmaker. Only polite. He resolved he would go to Chandra's flat and try to catch him; to at least see if he was having some more success with other subjects.
Meekly, he knocked on the door, wondering if this was really such a good idea, maybe he was busy? Maybe he wasn't in? Too late to go back, he had already knocked. The door was answered by an Indian man, not the older doctor as Gabriel had expected, but a much younger man, who was in an unseasonably long-sleeved jumper and scratching his shoulder
"Sorry, is Chandra Suresh still here?" He asked timidly; this new man didn't look too friendly. Instead of a brisk 'no' he expected, he was seized and thrown inside, into a table and he cried out in pain. He could feel the bruises already welling up and preparing to mar his skin.
"How dare you come here, dressed like that, and ask for my father!" He roared and slammed the door, leaping towards the groaning watchmaker.
"Sorry-" He tried, but was dragged up by immense strength.
"This time, I've got the power to put you down for good, you piece of scum." He growled, and punched Gabriel in the gut, he responded by howling in pain.
"You must have me confused with someone else." He whimpered through waves of pain.
"I don't think so – Sylar." He hissed and punched him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground.
"I'm not Sylar." He moaned, wondering what that cursed brother of his had done this time. He was sick of being mistaken for him.
"You can't pull that one over me. I'm going to make you pay for every life you've taken!" Mohinder roared. "Aren't you going to use your powers?" He challenged the man. Gabriel sat up, pained.
"I don't have any. Chandra didn't find any."
"No, you steal then from others like a parasite. I guess it doesn't matter." He smirked and lunged for the kill. His body leapt, scales on his back bristling through his jumper, only to stop suddenly mid-air, floating. He struggled, but could not move.
"Now, now, Mohinder." A dark voice teased. "I can't have you maiming my brother." Gabriel knew that voice. He picked himself up and looked to the door frame.
"What the hell have you done this time?!" Gabriel exploded without greeting his darker twin. "That's the umpteenth time I've been mistaken for you and gotten into serious trouble! What are you into?" He demanded, breath heavy with indignation.
"Oh Gods..." Mohinder gasped. "There's two of you." He closed his eyes, one Sylar was bad enough, but now two?
"No." Gabriel seethed through gritted teeth. "There's only one of him. What's it this time?" He demanded of his twin.
"I'm onto something much bigger than anything before, Gabriel." He said, almost spitting his brother's name. "Something far bigger than you." He sneered.
"What?!" Mohinder cried from aloft. "Ripping people's heads open and stealing their abilities?" He demanded to know of the darker man.
"No... You mean those pictures are what you did?"
"Pictures? You mean someone showed you what I've been doing?" He asked, curiously.
"Yes. After SWAT came in and destroyed my shop to arrest YOU, they interrogated ME and showed me photographs of those people. You're sick, Sylar." He said. Sylar laughed a little, then burst into fits.
"They thought you were me? Oh that's rich!" he laughed a bit more, maybe too much, but it was to dig at his sibling. "How can they mistake us? You're so insignificant." He sneered.
"Even you need a watch to tell the time." He replied sullenly, as though it were an old answer-back that never quite worked. His eyes fell on his brother's still out-stretched arm. His face brightened. "You've still got the watch I made for you!" He said, his surprise betraying him, and a smile.
"Of course. Reminder of my big brother." Sylar cooed sardonically.
"It's broken." Gabriel looked crestfallen.
"No, it's just stopped at a special time." He said, voice like silk. Gabriel eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.
"Are you going to let him down?" He asked, indicating to a still-suspended Mohinder.
"He's spent more time than this on a ceiling. He'll be fine for a little while yet before the blood rushing to his head causes him to blackout."
"Yes, but it's difficult to try and have a casual conversation without when there's a man hovering over me." He said. This tone still resonated enough with Sylar to make him pliable in conversation.
"Let's talk then, brother."