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