A woman runs a megacorporation that basically owns America, and the show's idea of a problem is an airplane through her bedroom. Cleopatra DC treats corporate espionage and cyborg conspiracies like a cartoon where the real joke is that none of it matters compared to the absurdity of having that much money. It's 1989 OVA energy: anarchic, visually loose, entirely unconcerned with whether you're following the plot or just watching something weird happen frame by frame.
In a future where corporate power dwarfs government authority, Ms. Cleo runs the Cleopatra Corns Group, a financial empire that practically owns America. She's smart, capable, and wealthy enough to handle most problems money can solve. Unfortunately, money doesn't fix everything, especially when an airplane crashes through her bedroom wall on what turns out to be a perfectly normal Tuesday. From that moment forward, chaos becomes Cleo's shadow. Stolen historical artifacts fall into criminal hands. Rival corporations kidnap her associates. A secret cyborg project spirals wildly out of control, threatening everything she's built. Each crisis seems designed specifically to test the limits of her wealth and intelligence, pulling her deeper into a conspiracy that reaches far beyond boardrooms and balance sheets. Part heist, part corporate thriller, part absurdist comedy, Cleopatra D.C. follows one woman's battle against mounting disasters that no amount of power can prevent. It's high-stakes action wrapped in wry humor, where being the boss doesn't mean you get to relax.