Rocket was no stranger to snow. Gotham had had it, and the occasional snowball fight, too. In Rocket's opinion, ambushes were better, and the snow was deep enough here somehow that one of his favorite tactics was available.

He burrowed under the snow and moved that way. The cybernetics and his fur regulated his temperature enough that he could stand it even if it deadened his usual senses enough that he had to navigate by occasionally popping his head out to look around. For the most part he was a snow shark, though.

And when the snow shark closed in on some good prey, he attacked by bursting out of the snow, flinging a pile on his hapless victim, and yelling, "Gotcha!"