Born into a normal, rural family, he was never rich nor was he poor. During the transitional period from communism to some sort of democracy in the 90s, Gabriel learned to "manage". He was a shrewd bussiness man since he could walk, charming the lollipops of his fellow children. He always managed to have something that someone else wanted and he made good use of the power. Sure, sometimes it backfired but he always landed on his feet.
Growing up, he gave up trying to impress his absent, drunkard of a father pretty fast. His mother died early in his childhood. He learned how to tend to the land, forced by his dad. Gabriel had to grow up quick. He never placed too much emphasis on his education, prefering to acumulate "street smarts". He did managed to barely finish high school. Gabriel never really had a job but he did have connections. Bussiness. Deals. That was his life through his 20s. He dealt in normal goods, sure...but for the right price and for the right people, he could procure almost anything: cars, guns, drugs, information. He had only three rules: 1) no kids 2) no slaves and 3) no refunds. At some point, he even managed to hold down a job at a butchers shop. Sadly, due to a misunderstanding involving the butcher's daughter and the rather sizeable cleaver the butcher had, Gabriel had to book it.
Gabriel was always enfatuated with the rich. He wanted to be like them. Dress like that. Act like them. Drive expensive cars and spend his nights getting served champagne by gorgeous women. He strived to reach that dream, but just when it seemed he struck gold, something always happened.
The apocalypse caught him in Chernarus. He went there to close an deal, suppling some AKs to some scary chernarussian nationalists and their equally scary russian enemies. When shit hit the fan, Gabriel was holed up on the northern border, near the city of Kamensk. He struck out and managed to land himself in a remote cabin with some cans and a radio. He decided to lay low for as along as he could, figuring shit will settle eventually and he can pick up his bussiness again. Days passed and as rival groups were starting to stake their claim on the land, Gabriel smelled an opportunity.
Seeing all the money just laying around after battles, in the form of guns, ammo, specialty goods and whatever else the recently deceased had, he became a scavanger, always watching and listening on the radio for opportunities. Whenever he would hear shit talk amongst gun totting idiots, he would go and reap the rewards of the battle. No battle field was too gruesome for him and he became real good with a hacksaw. He considered himself to be a recycler, making the world a better place with each fight...and getting some profit. This worked and he had a pretty decent revenue source. He spent said revenue on expensive clothes, booze and women. Even in the apocalypse, those can still be found and Gabriel found that many desperate people are willing to do alot for a can of beans. His dream of being rich was slowly materialising. Days passed. Peacefull days. Lavish days. Until he heard a knock on the door.