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