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