"How can we be losing so badly? We outnumber him!" Warren exclaimed, shaking snow from his hair.
"He is called 'Iceman'," Scott replied dryly, daring to peek from his hiding spot. "That might have something to do with it."
"Ordinarily, I would find myself in agreement with you, fearless leader. However, our cryogenically gifted friend has not been employing his powers in this battle." Hank ducked lower as another snowball sailed by. "It appears young mister Drake is, as he claimed, a 'pro.'"
Warren paused briefly as he translated Hank speech into something he understood. "Right. Look guys, all I know is, we need to win this! The stakes are way too high. I am not spending the next month washing Drake's drawers."
All three winced. The terms of the battle were absolute and had been agreed upon by all: losers did the winners laundry for a month. Hank, Scott, and Warren had quickly teamed up, combining their forces in hopes of defeating Bobby. Unfortunately, their alliance was merely prolonging their misery, yet no one considered surrender an option. Bobby hadn't done any of his laundry in weeks. Hank swore the clothing piles were gaining sentience, and had proposed an in-depth study as next term's science project.
"Come on, Hank," Warren pleaded. "You're supposed to be a genius! Think of something!"
Bobby's whoops of triumph could be heard as another barrage of snowballs pounded into their makeshift shelter.
"Scott is the tactical genius," Hank grunted as he returned fire. "Scott, you think of something!"
"Think of something. Right." So, Scott thought. Hard.
Bobby yelled with joy and did a victory dance as he saw his three friends emerge from their shelter, their hands up in surrender. "Don't shoot!" Scott yelled, seeing Bobby palm another snowball. "We give up!"
"Aww, yeah!" Bobby boasted. "I am the wizard of winter! I am the sultan of snow! I am-"
Bobby spun around to find Jean smirking and pointing. His eyes widened as he looked up at the load of snow telekinetically suspended above him.
"-doomedmmph!," he finished lamely as he was buried.
Hank kindly brushed the snow off Bobby's face so he could breathe. "You were saying, oh duke of dorkiness?"
"I am defeated," Bobby said woefully. "By a girl, even!"
Jean merely arched an eyebrow as she marched away. "I'll be getting my laundry ready for you," she called.
"So," Warren began, as they watched Bobby try futilely to escape the snowbank, "Hank told you to think, and you-"
"Projected my thoughts to Jean, and she agreed to help us," Scott finished. Cold and soggy, they began to trudge back to the school. They paused and turned, watching Hank pack the snow tighter around a protesting Bobby.
"And now Bobby has to wash all our laundry for a month!" Warren chortled gleefully.
"Er, no. We did surrender, so actually Jean is the winner. We'll all be doing her laundry." Behind them, Bobby's complaints grew louder as Hank molded the snow into a generously endowed female form.
"Oh." Warren's wings drooped at the prospect of doing laundry, then perked up as something occurred to him. "At least-"
"I've already called dibs on her underwear," Scott interjected.
Warren cursed. "Hey Scott?"
"You really are a tactical genius."