Sickly Cannon Fodder: Spoiled by the Powerful Apocalypse Bosses-Chapter 92

Hannah didn’t reply.

In truth, she had already seen the photos Richard sent.

Her eyes lingered on the golden, crispy fried chicken in the picture. She swallowed unconsciously, her throat dry with longing.

Fried chicken... she wanted some too.

God, she really wanted it.

Damn it—what kind of life was Richard living in there?

The more she thought about it, the more something inside her twisted and soured.

Especially now that she knew he was doing it on purpose—deliberately flaunting it to disgust her—the resentment in her chest only deepened.

No.

She couldn’t let him live so comfortably.

Without hesitation, Hannah forwarded the photo to Sean.

[This is what he just sent me. His meal for today.]

[And this is his social feed.]

When Sean and the third man saw the images, their desire to rob Richard burned even hotter.

"Damn it... he’s living like a king!" the third man spat, unable to hold back.

While everyone else was starving, Richard was feasting like this every single day.

And that wasn’t even the worst part—he had the nerve to post it and show off?

People like him deserved to be "dealt with."

Sean immediately pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

***

After being kicked out of the group chat by Richard, Mrs. Warren created a new one of her own.

Suzy and Leonard were both added.

The group remained eerily silent—no one spoke. Suzy and Leonard had no intention of being the first to step forward.

Then, the next day, Mrs. Warren suddenly posted an announcement:

[Get ready ahead of time. I’m coming with people to collect supplies now. Everyone cooperate.]

The chat had been set to mute.

Aside from Mrs. Warren, the administrator, no one else could speak.

Suzy and Leonard exchanged a glance.

Leonard let out a cold chuckle. "So, they’re planning to rob people outright now."

Suzy’s phone buzzed with a security alert—the system had detected movement within the camera’s range.

She immediately opened the surveillance feed.

In the stairwell, a group of men and women had gathered.

Speak of the devil.

One of the men was fiddling with Suzy’s reinforced door, pushing hard against it. When it didn’t budge, he finally realized—it was locked.

"It’s locked," the man said with a frown.

Mrs. Warren’s expression turned stern.

Just then, a hoarse voice cut in from above, dripping with insinuation:

"I told you—she must have a lot of supplies. Otherwise, why would she lock her door? Guilty conscience."

The voice came from upstairs. Suzy adjusted the camera angle—and there it was.

Julia’s face filled the screen.

"Her again," Suzy muttered, grinding her teeth.

Last time, Julia hadn’t managed to take advantage of them—now she had gone and stirred up others to come after them instead.

Mrs. Warren raised a hand, signaling the man to step aside.

"Is anyone home? Residents of 501? Open the door—we’re the building’s supply coordination team!" she called out, her voice loud and commanding.

Suzy’s calm voice came through the intercom, steady and unruffled:

"Is there something you need?"

At the sound of Suzy’s reply, Mrs. Warren’s spirits lifted. She cleared her throat, her tone immediately shifting into something official and self-assured.

"Well, here’s the situation. Given the current crisis, in order to ensure the basic survival of all residents in this building, we’ve formed a coordination team. Our role is to centrally collect, manage, and distribute all available supplies so we can get through this together.

We already mentioned this in the group chat. We hope you’ll cooperate—bring out your food, water, and other necessities so we can register them."

Her words sounded righteous—almost unquestionable.

Suzy listened patiently before answering, her voice calm and even. "We won’t be participating. We don’t have surplus supplies. We’re barely managing ourselves, so we can’t cooperate."

"That’s not the right attitude!" Mrs. Warren cut in immediately. "Young people should have a sense of collective responsibility! This isn’t the time to be selfish!

Look around—so many people in this building are starving. Children and the elderly are waiting for life-saving food! There are only two of you—you must have extra! Take it out and help everyone. It’s the right thing to do!"

A woman behind her chimed in, "Exactly! We’ve all handed over some! Why should you be the exception? If times are hard, they’re hard for everyone!"

From upstairs, Julia’s hoarse voice slithered down again, thick with insinuation. "I think they’re hiding things... probably got piles of supplies in there."

Behind the door, Leonard’s fists clenched, anger flaring.

Suzy pressed a hand lightly against his arm, signaling him to stay calm.

When she spoke again, her voice had turned cold.

"First, we have no obligation to hand over what we need to survive.

Second, you say ’centralized distribution’—where’s the plan? What standards? Who supervises it? How will anything be returned later? You’re asking people to give up their supplies with nothing but empty promises. If that’s not robbery, what is?"

"You—how can you say that?!" Mrs. Warren flushed red, struck where it hurt most.

"Robbery? We’re doing this for everyone’s good! The plan... the plan will come! We need to gather the supplies first before we can arrange anything! If you refuse, you’re undermining unity—you’re condemning your neighbors to death!"

Every other household downstairs had obediently handed over something. Suzy was the first real obstacle Mrs. Warren had encountered.

If she let this slide, how could she maintain any authority afterward?

A harsh glint flickered in Mrs. Warren’s eyes.

"I think you’ve got something to hide! Otherwise, why won’t you open the door? Why won’t you let us check? If you really have nothing, what are you afraid of?" Her voice grew louder with each accusation.

Julia couldn’t resist fanning the flames. "Mrs. Warren, there’s no point reasoning with them! People like this won’t give in until it’s too late! They definitely have good stuff hidden inside!"

"Enough, Mom. Stop wasting time talking to them!"

A fierce-looking man came up from the stairwell, dragging a steel pipe behind him. He pushed past Mrs. Warren, his impatience obvious. "Not opening the door? Fine. I’ll open it for you."

Suzy’s eyes turned completely cold.

So this was their real plan.

No wonder Mrs. Warren had suddenly grown so bold—she had backing now.

The man stared at the reinforced door with a predatory glare. "Everyone move aside."

The people crowding the doorway quickly backed away.

He stepped back, then lunged forward with a vicious kick.

Bang!

The door shuddered—but didn’t budge.

"Tch. Pretty solid," he muttered, then barked, "Go get some pliers."

He raised the steel pipe.

From the corner, Julia watched with shining eyes, anticipation practically spilling over.

Smash it.

Break it open.

At that razor-thin moment of tension, the door suddenly opened a crack from the inside, the security chain pulled taut.

Not forced open.

Opened deliberately.

Behind the narrow gap, Suzy’s face appeared—pale, cold, and utterly composed.

Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like ice.

"You want to break the door? Go ahead. Try."

Leonard stepped into view beside her, casually revealing the long blade in his hand.