City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in hot anime girs. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with hot anime girs,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“hot anime girs, hot anime girs, hot anime girs!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “hot anime girs” down on the streets fifty stories below.