Gabriel slid easily through the crowds, unsurprised to find the entire room already packed to the brim. Peter certainly knew how to draw a crowd. Whether it was due to his impassioned pleas for equality or his righteous anger at those who had wronged him and his family, he had drawn many to his side over the years. Gabriel was content to watch from the sidelines, doing his part to keep him safe from a distance. Peter had often tried to draw him into his campaign, but Gabriel had always declined, knowing that his image would do more harm than good. And though he'd never admit it to Peter, he held his own doubts about whether or not Peter was simply wasting his time.
Gabriel couldn't picture the future that Peter could: specials living in harmony with the rest of the population, their gifts looked at as something special and able to help others rather than a mutation that needed to be eradicated. There was too much hatred and vitriol against people like him, even those who had never harmed another. It seemed as though every day another hate crime braced the headlines, a special attacked for nothing more than showing a sign of their power in public. Sometimes the images and news he heard was enough to bring out a long-silent anger, a piece that he thought he'd buried.
He had given away his TV five years ago, and only used his phone for answering calls from Peter or Claire. There was little else to occupy his time, so he took to reading and puzzles, feeling like he was slipping closer and closer into his old persona whose name had taken back on. But was it a persona? Gabriel had trouble figuring out where he began and Sylar ended, where the watchmaker had died and the monster had taken his place. Sometimes he found himself picking up an old watch, his fingers itching to take it apart and find the working pieces, but something always stopped him at the last second.
There was nowhere left to sit in the large open ballroom on the bottom floor of the hotel, and so Gabriel stood near the back, leaning slightly against the wall. He'd taken on the appearance of a man he'd passed on the street earlier that morning, someone getting on a bus going the opposite direction, so he knew that he wouldn't be at the speech today. It was Peter's last chance to rally votes before the election in two weeks.
He could barely hear himself think. The entire room was filled, though its occupants were quite varied. There was a slew of reporters in the front, men and women in sharp business attire, poised to attack with microphones and notepads. There were a lot of younger people, most likely specials, standing in jeans and T-shirts and speaking in low voices among themselves. A lot of the younger generation were growing more radical and impatient, sick of the injustice they were facing and ready to see a change; they saw Peter as their chance for that change. And then there were those who were there only because they disagreed. Gabriel could hear their conversations as he stood near the door, their quiet voices drifting towards his ears as he used another gift he'd acquired. Super hearing had its benefits when trying to head off any trouble.
"...dangerous. They're a menace. My child shouldn't have to be in class with someone who can start fires, for God's sake. What if they hurt her?"
"...disgusting. It's unnatural. They shouldn't be proud; they should be ashamed."
"God wouldn't want this…"
Gabriel could feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck, the first sign of anger. He shook his head slightly, turning his hearing back to normal as he looked over the crowd. So far, no one looked dangerous, though he knew better than anyone that looks were deceiving. Peter had plenty of protection. His security detail consisted of specials armed not only with powers but with weapons, ready to react at a moment's notice. He also had Claire, constantly by his side and ready to take a bullet for him if necessary. And he had Gabriel as well, ready to raise hell if anyone laid a finger on him. Still, Gabriel found himself on edge as the room continued to fill. Despite his reassurances to Claire that morning, the sight of so many people was more than enough to set him on edge.
He frowned slightly as he remembered the look on Claire's face that morning, her forehead creased with worry as she remembered the videos that were continuously circulating on the internet. Gabriel didn't understand why she continued to watch them, but he had long since stopped trying to understand Claire. She didn't fit into any boxes he tried to create for her; she wasn't like the machines he used to work on, something he could break down and put back together. She'd proven that every day since they escaped the hospital together.
Sometimes the past 20 years seemed more like a fever dream than anything tangible. The thought that he was no longer alone, that he had not one but two people who accepted him, was unimaginable. He sometimes thought back to the moment when he found Claire at her college, desperate to find a connection with someone, knowing that he was going to die alone. Having her of all people choose to forgive and understand him was baffling, yet another way that she eluded his understanding. He struggled to be grateful rather than frustrated at his lack of comprehension.
A hush fell over the room. Gabriel looked up, watching as Peter and Claire stepped onto the large stage at the front of the room. Sometimes seeing Peter still brought a shock to his system. Since he and Claire didn't age, watching Peter slowly grow older was disconcerting. The lines on his forehead had deepened, and his hair had long since began to turn gray. He actually looked his age of 47, something that was unfamiliar to Gabriel, who figured he must be nearing 60, despite appearing in his mid to late thirties.
Still, Peter had aged well. He still had the same smile, the kind that put everyone in his presence at ease and made them want to open up to him. He waved at the crowd, pausing behind the podium in a well-made dark suit that somehow made him look both professional and welcoming. Claire stood at his side, her blonde hair pulled tightly into a bun. She wore a pencil skirt and long-sleeved white blouse, the perfect picture of a professional. Gabriel knew that she struggled to look older than her age, and with well-placed makeup and a carefully chosen outfit, she could often look to be in her mid to late 20s. Anyone who interacted with her would quickly learn her true age, however. There was something in the way she carried herself, the way she spoke, that made one realize that she had experienced far more than anyone else her age.
"Thank you all for being here," Peter said. Gabriel stood up straight, his eyes glancing over the room again. The doors were closed, each one guarded by at least one of Peter's men or women. They didn't stand out much from the crowd, but Gabriel recognized each of them, standing straight-backed and ready to act if anything were to happen.
There had been incidents before, though nothing that they couldn't handle. A few disgruntled specials who wanted to remain in the shadows and hated the attention he was bringing, a few politicians who were disgusted by his policies, a few angry constituents. No one that couldn't be escorted out, either politely or violently. Still, Gabriel knew it was only a matter of time, and with Peter drawing ever closer to public office and the chance to make real change, he found himself on edge at every public meeting.
"I hope that today can be an opportunity to open a dialogue," Peter continued, his eyes moving across the room slowly, taking time to pause on everyone he could. "I want to ensure that every voice is heard, every concern addressed, before we take to the polls next month. As you all know, my platform is simple: equality. Specials have lived in the shadows for years, frightened for their lives and livelihood. We've all seen what can happen when governmental power goes unchecked. The hospital in Pennsylvania was a travesty, and it was only one of many. We can never allow something like that to happen again to anyone. And if they're willing to do it to specials, who knows where they'll stop?" Peter paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in.
"I don't say this to frighten anyone," he said. "I say this to tell you the truth: the government has made it clear that they only care about the bottom line, about greed and knowledge at any cost. It's time we put humanity back into the equation, and give everyone the opportunity to live openly and without fear. When I'm in office, I'll make it my responsibility to speak up for those who feel like they don't have a voice, to stand up for those who have been wronged. I hope you'll give me a chance to do so."
Coming from anyone else, any other politician, the words would sound empty and idle. Somehow, Peter brought them to life. There was a smattering of applause, and as it began to die down, the reporters jumped in.
"Mr. Petrelli, what do you have to say about the recent uprising in violence in the city? Some say that these groups are led by specials."
"I'd say that violence isn't exclusive to specials," Peter said. "And it isn't acceptable coming from anyone. I ask those who are acting out in this way to seriously consider if they're helping the image they want to change or harming it. Any type of violence, special or otherwise, needs to be swiftly addressed."
"Mr Petrelli. What are your plans for addressing the concerns of parents in schools who want separate education for specials?"
Peter paused, glancing out over the crowd. "Separating specials from the rest of the population is not the answer. While it's true that the younger generation needs more guidance when it comes to controlling their powers, the answer isn't separation: it's further education. I propose expanding courses in schools to include classes for those whose powers are just emerging in order to ensure safety for themselves and their classmates, special or otherwise."
Gabriel found himself tuning out the questions, instead watching the room for any strange activity. Everyone seemed engrossed in Peter's words, either positively or negatively. No one set off any alarm bells, and so he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly, finding his gaze falling again on Claire.
She exuded an aura of confidence, standing next to her uncle on stage. Her eyes never stopped moving, always watching for any signs of danger. Gabriel knew that she wouldn't hesitate to throw herself over Peter in the event of any type of danger, even if the danger somehow presented a threat to her own life. Her devotion was admirable, though sometimes Gabriel found himself concerned with the lack of care she took for her own safety. He felt invincible at times as well, but they both knew that all it took was an accurate shot in the back of the head to turn them mortal long enough to die.
"...What do you say to the rumors that Sylar is still here in the city, and actively interacting with you?"
Gabriel stiffened, turning his attention back to the reporters as a murmur rippled across the crowd. Peter stiffened slightly as well, though he answered in his usual way, exuding the confidence that Gabriel both envied and admired.
"I've been open to the fact that Gabriel Gray helped liberate the hospital 20 years ago. He was one of their prisoners as well, and is a changed man as far as I'm concerned. That being said, I don't know where he is right now."
Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment as the murmurs increased in volume. Technically Peter wasn't lying; he didn't know where he was right now, standing in the back of the room and watching for any danger. Still, the fact that his image was harming Peter's chances at election, at helping others like themselves, caused his chest to tighten slightly, an emotion that he was still growing familiar with: guilt.
He could hear other reporters jumping on the line of questioning, asking about his relationship with the Boogeyman, the Brainman, the monster who had haunted this same city years before. He could hear Claire attempt to steer them back to current topics, though she was quickly overwhelmed by the crowd joining in, asking what had happened to the monster that Peter openly called a friend.
"How could you associate with a known serial killer? Rumors say that he was responsible for the death of your brother, Nathan Petrelli, who also ran for office…"
"How can the public rest knowing that Sylar is still out there?"
Gabriel could feel the anger returning, a slow simmer beneath the surface. These people knew nothing about him; they only wanted to use him to justify their bigotry against his kind. They didn't truly care about what he'd done years ago, unless it helped them dismantle Peter's campaign.
The questions didn't stop, and with each word spoken, Gabriel felt his fists clench tighter and tighter, his knuckles turning white. Claire was beginning to look overwhelmed, unsure how to deal with the sudden line of questioning, while Peter remained calm, attempting to answer questions as they came in his usual diplomatic way. The guilt and anger mixed in his stomach until he felt like he would burst, and it was just as he turned to leave the room for a moment before he did something he'd regret, that he heard the first gunshot.
It was quiet, too quiet for the enclosed area, but it only took a moment for panic to ensure. He saw one of the guards fall, red blooming on the white carpet beneath them. He saw Claire grab Peter and begin to drag him off the stage, shielding him with her body. He heard more gunshots, each one seeming to come from a different direction. And then he heard an explosion, the ground shook, and he heard nothing else.
