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The U.S. debut of private security guard Charlie Fox, a gal with moxie and deadly accuracy with a Sig Sauer.
After Special Forces training, rape at the hands of her co-trainees, a spurious discharge and a stint as a self-defense instructor, Charlie joins her on-again/off-again lover Sean Meyer’s protection firm. She’s sent to Fort Lauderdale to babysit Trey Pelzner, the rambunctious teenage son of a computer whiz, who’s been getting threats, presumably about his top-secret work. Bang! An assassin has a go at them in an amusement park, and when they return home, everyone’s disappeared, including Trey’s dad and Sean. Who’s after them and why? Their wealthy neighbor professes not to know, Trey clams up and Gerri Raybourn and Jim Whitmarsh, Pelzner’s stateside security gurus, are shooting up motel rooms and cars along A1A as they zero in on Charlie and Trey, who are seeking anonymity among the thousands of Spring-breakers reveling at Daytona Beach. A betrayal by Trey’s pal Henry leaves them, disguised in pink hair and bikini tops, with no one to turn to except old Walt, a retired FBI agent with a nifty beachhouse. The shooting pauses briefly but soon resumes when Charlie refuses to hand her charge over to the baddies.
Slick, hard-boiled fare with enough gunplay and mayhem to keep Vin Diesel happy, while offering a sop to the romantically minded.
