Nighttime, LA. Our hero opens his eyes, regaining consciousness. Above him, the Hollywood sign and an empty hill. Parked nearby, there's a car and a dead cop. And next to the cop, a gun. Judging by the way it fits the holster he's wearing, it looks like our man's the killer. And he can't remember a damned thing - how he got there; what happened; who he is. Sirens scream through the night - time to run. Our hero gets into the dead cop's car and splits. In the car, his cell phone rings A voice tells him the job's done and the money will be wired into his account? Our man enters a hellish world of lethal deception and limitless depravity, desperate to regain his identity at the heart of a black, white and blood-red nightmare where the only thing filthier than the lies is the sex, and the only sure thing is that nothing is what it seems.