"No shit? The seamstress?" Marcus laughed, shaking his head. "Heh. Yeah, I know her. She don't fucking like me much." He didn't know how serious she'd been about her little schoolgirl bullshit revenge schemes she'd been hatching with Helena, but he knew better than to go to her for any favors anytime soon. A thought occurred to him, then, which only added to his amusement. "If that other one's kid is a four-year-old, then I don't think she fucking likes me, either. That's some funny shit. Labcoat I was thinking of is a fucking doctor, though. Don't know nothing about no death chambers."
Like many others, he was of two minds about the fact that people were doing experiments. On one hand, some fucker playing God had probably caused this whole mess, and messing around with it was just begging fate for something even worse. On the other hand, it didn't get much worse, and as Marcus had been pointing out before, they weren't exactly getting more firepower anytime soon. Maybe some mad scientists could figure out how to mutate some of the good guys. Get some superhero action in this motherfucker. Hell, Marcus would be the first to sign up for that. Even the odds a little.
"Used to be a lot of us. Brothers. Had a sister, too, once." His eyes shifted into the middle distance for a moment, perhaps contemplating his family. This only lasted a moment, however. He hadn't lost anything. Not really. Still, his expression was dark. No trace of the smirk. "Just me, now. Unless someone knows something I fucking don't."