Two hundred years ago, humans invented plasma cutters. Another hundred, they weaponized them, making the heated part a meter long, and redesigning the handle so it worked like the swords from the Middle Ages. Another fifty, there was a war. They were used extensively, and since you could flick them on or off, they were the ultimate melee weapons. The bombs fell during this war. The fallout didn't destroy natural ecosystems too badly, though it caused mutations in humans, giving them different abilities. Some gained telekinesis and mind powers, and were trained to use the plasma swords, others got ice powers. But every year, starting at the Winter Solstice, there was a game. A rather sadistic game, in which those with exceptional mutations or high social status got chucked into an arena to kill each other. This kept the world in line. It is here that we enter the arena. "3" the announcer's voice said. "2" "1, and the games are on!" the voice boomed through the arena, crafted to look and work exactly like a forest. Of course, there was a stack of weapons, which is where most of the fighting would be done. The padawan raced to the pile of weapons. Someone had already gotten a powerful handgun, but this wasn't going to deter him. He went to grab a plasma sword, but was stopped by a woman in a blue dress, wielding shards of glass that looked like they had come from shoes. "You can't have that." she said with a psychopathic grin, the sort of smile that unsettles you beyond belief. "Look...behind you." said the padawan. As she did, the padawan flicked his head to the side, right before the .44 caliber bullet hit the princess in blue square in the forehead. The bullet had had enough power behind it to leave Cinderella's head in chunks on the ground. The padawan looked distastefully at the now headless body, and picked up the plasma sword. Luckily, the man, or was it a beast, that had the gun had focused his attention on someone else. "I'm Scandinavian nobility, Drop the fucking sword." she said. "No." He flicked on the sword. She began to attempt to freeze it. "How is it, or you, not freezing to death?" she demanded. "Because a meter of superheated plasma doesn't freeze. Now die." He walked over, pressed the blade directly to her chest, and flicked it on. Superheated plasma doesn't work well with human flesh. It sizzled, and the red blade came out of her back, still sizzling. He proceeded to force choke everyone, since this is getting long.