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