It’s 1993 Los Angeles, and grungy boozehound Frank is about to take the ride of his life. After seeing Frank deliver an impressive ass kicking in a bar fight, Russian mobster Popov hires him to be his driver. What Popov doesn’t know is that when Frank is sober, he’s inhumanly fast, deadly, and mute; when Frank is drunk, which is most of the time, he’s a useless twenty-something wiseass.

Double-crossed by Antoine in a drug deal gone wrong, Frank, Popov and their crew have one night to recover Popov’s stolen cash or get wiped off the map. Popov dumps Vlad, his violent lieutenant, in favor of Frank. Vlad is hell bent on revenge, while Popov increasingly relies on Frank’s special skills. Frank struggles to keep off the sauce while the clock is ticking. Frank and Popov track down Antoine’s associate Gilbert, a La Eme wanna-be, to a downtown bar. Gilbert gets away after a shoot-out, while Gilbert’s date, a beautiful Corona Cerveza model nicknamed Calendar, ends up with Frank and Popov. Turns out Calendar is keeping tabs on Gilbert for Popov. Frank wonders if Popov is manipulating Calendar, or if she is the one pulling the strings after she sends them off on a deadly mission of her own. Things turn catastrophic for Frank when he’s stabbed in the jugular with a hypodermic. Frank is forced to rely on freaky bondage showman Cape Man to not only save his neck, but to get him to his final destination, where all scores are violently settled.

The story shifts in time from Frank and Popov’s frantic night of mayhem, to a few weeks later, where Frank is boozing it with lovely house-crasher Janie. Frank is telling the story of his violent pursuit of Popov’s stolen loot. Janie has lots of questions, maybe too many. Frank needs every bit of his speed and cunning to survive a double-cross he never saw coming, to overcome an enemy he thought he’d never see again.