Then something even more dire happened.

Several ambulances, lights flashing blue, carried a group of relatively "stable" drowning victims and athletes with severe diarrhea, racing towards the hospital with urgent sirens blaring.

Just two blocks away from the hospital, at a narrow intersection, the leading ambulance suddenly swerved violently and stopped.

The driver cursed as he jumped out, almost fainting at the sight — the tire on the right rear of the ambulance was gone! Only the bare rim was left planted on the ground.

"Which son of a bitch stole it?!" The driver was furious. This was an ambulance! In Delhi, someone dared to steal an ambulance's tires?!

He quickly checked the spare tire rack — it was empty.

Jack?

Gone too. Even the warning triangle had vanished at some point.

The ambulances following behind were also forced to stop, and their drivers were dumbfounded upon inspection — several cars had their tires removed, some missing one, others even two! The method was skilled and decisive, clearly not improvised.

"Call the police! Quickly, call the police!" A doctor jumped out of the vehicle, frantic with urgency. There were patients with faint pulses still in the vehicles!

The police did arrive quickly, given the number of officers on the streets during the Commonwealth Games.

But after hearing the situation, several officers looked at each other, their faces showing a mixture of helplessness and "what's the fuss about?". 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"In this area... there are many thieves."

A police officer said slowly, "They might have seen your vehicles parked here and thought it was a good opportunity. We will file a report and investigate."

"Report your mother!" A doctor from the Australian team couldn't help but curse, "The people in these vehicles are dying! Now! Immediately! Get us some tires! Or call in other ambulances!"

The officer spread his hands: "Arranging another vehicle takes time, sir. Besides... other ambulances are also very busy. You could try... calling a private towing company? But they charge quite a bit, and may not be available right now either."

Despair.

Raw, absurd despair.

A few foreign doctors and coaches stood shaking with anger at what they saw, but were filled with a deep sense of powerlessness. On an ambulance route where lives could be lost at any moment, they were helpless because the tires were stolen, while the police argued about filing reports and hiring private tows—what kind of a surreal land is this?

In the end, a kind-hearted local rickshaw driver, along with some bystanders who couldn't stand to watch, cobbled together a makeshift solution using ropes, planks, and old tires they found somewhere, allowing the ambulances to "roll" the last few hundred meters at a pace of five kilometers per hour, rattling and clanking all the way to the hospital.

By this time, some of the patients who might have been saved had already lost their last breaths in the delays and jostling.

The chaos in the hospital only increased. There was no place for the bodies, so they were temporarily stored in a closet usually used for cleaning tools. The living patients weren't getting timely treatment, and the building echoed with painful groans and curses.

In the midst of this hellish scene, another sordid and typically "Indian characteristic" incident quietly unfolded.

Emily Carter, a star player in the Australian women's rugby sevens team, aged 22, was brought to this hospital due to severe diarrhea and dehydration. She was initially placed in a relatively "quiet" cubicle on the second floor for IV treatment.

The team doctor accompanying her went to get medication, leaving for less than ten minutes.

Upon returning, the curtain to the cubicle was drawn, with sounds of Emily's terrified whimpers and struggles coming from inside.

The team doctor's heart sank, violently pulling open the curtain — a thin man in a hospital cleaner's uniform was pressing down on the weak Emily, one hand covering her mouth, the other groping her body. Emily's face was pale, tears streamed down, unable to resist due to dehydration and high fever.

"Bastard! What are you doing?!" The team doctor, eyes wide with rage, grabbed the IV stand next to him and swung it over.

The cleaner was startled, jumped away in a panic, trying to defend himself: "I... I was cleaning her! She soiled the bedding!"

"Clean your mother!"

The team doctor, a robust middle-aged man, grabbed the cleaner by the collar and swung his fist. The commotion drew other medical staff and patients.

The situation quickly escalated.

The hospital initially tried to play it down, calling it an "isolated incident by a temporary worker," and offered apologies and compensation. But the Australian delegation wasn't having it.

The team leader pointed at the hospital director's nose, shouting: "Your athletes drown in the river! Your ambulance tires are stolen! Now our female team member is sexually harassed on a hospital bed in your hospital! Is this your Indian 'Commonwealth spirit'?! Is this your 'great civilization'?!"

The news couldn't be contained, spreading instantly through various national delegations and reaching the ears of the keen media.

The combination of keywords like triathlon mass drowning, stolen ambulance tires, and female athletes sexually assaulted in a hospital created explosive effects akin to a nuclear bomb.

The main press center of the Commonwealth Games was instantly in an uproar.

All international reporters, like sharks sensing blood, swarmed the hospital and organizing committee's office. Indian reporters looked awkward, attempting to explain or change the subject, but were powerless.

A reporter from The Guardian, in a live broadcast, raged: "This is not a sports event! It's a massacre! A crime! A blatant display of systemic failure! The Indian Government must give answers to the entire Commonwealth!"