Before the competitors step into the ring, I inquire of the hostess, "Have you been made aware of the prevalent and perilous pandemic virus that has struck this area, known to trigger strokes in individuals?" She responds with a shake of her head, admitting that earlier in the day, she was informed by a colleague, a veterinarian at the animal park, about the sudden and peculiar demise of three winged-goats. "Curiously enough," she adds, "he also raised the matter of this very pandemic virus." Pressing on, I admit, "I possess limited knowledge regarding the specifics of this virus. Merely caught wind of it through the local radio. However, if the reports are true and this truly is an epidemic, it would undoubtedly amount to a calamity."

I was acutely aware that the death of those creatures within the animal park bore no relation to a mere virus outbreak or unforeseen accidents. Reasons far more sinister lay at the heart of this anomaly. From the inception of our ambitious mission, the Persian Special Police Force had established their encampment within close proximity of the complex. Utilizing their advanced spy drones, equipped with formidable microwaves, they purposefully subjected select park animals to a calculated and prolonged anesthesia. Meanwhile, Ali, ever resourceful, had meticulously marked all the critical installations - the nerve center, the distribution hub for human organs, the power station, and even the vigilant guardhouses - employing xenon bulbs adorning the streetlights. As the competitors finally entered the ring, the air was tinged with a prelude of aggression. Their growls echoed, resplendent with the promise of the impending battle, prior to the official commencement.

Throughout numerous previous tours, I had brazenly activated my camera and transmitters, without any repercussions or detection. It seemed as though I had successfully remained incognito. However, my daring exploits were destined to come to an abrupt halt within the confines of this particular club. Unbeknownst to me, a formidable tracking system lurked within its walls. The moment my camera flickered to life, alerting the ever-vigilant guards, my cover was blown. One of the guards, his approach subtly clandestine, sidled up to me and whispered slyly into my ear, "Kindly join me in the office."

Glancing at my watch, a surge of realization courses through me. The imminent arrival of drones, cloaked with sinister intent, gnaws at my consciousness. Their primary objectives? The clubhouses teeming with throngs of revelers and the pulsing heart of the entire complex - its power station. Averting my focus from the persistent guard's persistent pleas, I nonchalantly shout with unwavering confidence, "Haven't I made myself abundantly clear already?" Echoes of disgruntled voices cascade through the row of affluent spectators, their disdain for the guard echoing my own sentiments. "Disappear!" they chime in unison, "Cease obstructing our view and vanish from our sight!"

As the competition erupts into action, the fighters poised to clash head-on, a sudden and inexplicable phenomenon unfolds before them. One combatant collapses abruptly, lifeless and void of movement, right before the startled eyes of the other. In that very moment, the hostess unleashes an ear-shattering scream, her voice piercing the air like a siren of dread. In sync with her terrified cry, the entire place plunges into darkness. A premeditated plan unfurls as the drones, hidden in the shadows, unleash a focused barrage of microwaves upon the power plant and densely populated areas. While a few bewildered elders remain firmly planted in their seats, grappling with the confusion at hand, the majority of the crowd surges forth, propelled by panic and a chorus of frantic shouts, "Virus! Virus!" Frantic attempts by management ensue, as emergency lights flicker into existence only to be snuffed out once again, leaving the scene shrouded in an eerie gloom. With each passing minute, the horrified patrons of the resort complex are overcome by an overwhelming terror, their instincts propelling them towards the safety of their vehicles in the sprawling parking lots, the sleek space cars, or even the nearby airport, seeking escape from the encroaching chaos.

However, the grim reality reveals that no one has actually succumbed to a deadly virus. Instead, they have fallen victim to a stunning wave that has rendered them unconscious, a temporary state from which they will gradually awaken after five or six hours have passed. Unforeseen collateral damage ensues as the waves affect not only the attendees but also select members of the hospital staff, security personnel, and individuals from the management itself. Fear takes root within the hearts of some, compelling them to join the frantic throngs of passengers fleeing towards the safety of the parking lots. The mass exodus from the complex has transformed it into a symphony of chaotic turmoil. As the crowd dissipates, only a handful of senior managers, select staff members from the enigmatic human organ distribution center, a determined group of guards, and a few tenacious power plant crew members remain - either stunned into inaction or refusing to abandon their posts, rendering the once vibrant complex eerily vacant.

Within mere moments, an insidious invasion descends upon the complex as Persian troops materialize from the skies and make their presence known, setting off a frenzy of chaos and panic. The relentless pursuit of the guards persists, prompting me to fiercely tug the hostess by the arm, our pace quickened as we attempt to blend into the swirling sea of fleeing patrons. However, as the number of guards tailing our every move swells to three or five, the assailant's affiliation with the Persian soldiers becomes distressingly apparent. Covert signals are deftly dispatched to headquarters, tracking our path with chilling accuracy. Ali, his heart awash with desperation, yearns to flee alongside the electronic department personnel from the power station. Yet, the stationed guard vehemently roars, impeding any thoughts of escape with an iron decree, "Nobody moves an inch until I give the order!" A fierce struggle ensues between Ali and the guard, culminating in a gunshot piercing Ali's arm. In the escalating skirmish, Ali's comrades attempt to apprehend the guard, but tragically, lives get extinguished within the swirling vortex of conflict. Simultaneously, Persian special forces lance into combat against the resistant guards. Another contingent swiftly seizes vital documents while apprehending esteemed executives and select personnel, their authority engulfing the compound in an air of dominance.