The chant rose again, Aug. 6 -- The sun over Abuja didn't just burn - it punished. Sergeant Bala wiped a line of sweat off his brow with a trembling hand. His uniform, what was left of it, clung to him like a wet rag. Around him, a hundred other ex-soldiers stood firm - sun-scarred, battle-tested, broke.

"PAY US OUR DUES!"

It wasn't just noise. It was fury. Pain. Decades of silence detonating all at once.

Bala's eyes scanned the streets, lips parched. A fly landed on his cheek. He didn't flinch. His mind was far from here - back in Maiduguri, the day the bomb didn't go off. It should've. But he'd crawled through sewage and wire, bare-handed, to defuse it. He'd saved a platoon. Got a medal. Got a handshake from some general who now live...