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