'Blacklist Terminal Ghosts' with glitch effect on a black background.

In Production

Hong Kong, 2054. A vertical maze braced by seawalls and overshadowed by the great towers above. The cascades of the ‘30s never fully healed, but the city learned how to endure.

CELL 54

Cell 54 is a crew of washed-up savants and “divergent" talents freelancing for an enigmatic corporation known as Heliotrope Virtual.

Their latest job looked pretty typical: shepherd a courier, shake a few rent-a-mercs, deliver a payload of kompromat to a Triad-owned nightclub in Kowloon. But the meet erupts in gunfire, and the team stumbles into a hidden facility beneath the dance floor — and something that shouldn’t have gotten out.

Its trail leads into a solar-system-spanning conspiracy where megacorp AIs have collided with something far older: entities that resurface cyclically through human hosts, locked in a contest against the custodians of death over which memories get to survive the next culling.

Caught between corporate war, occult geopolitics, and local gangland violence, Cell 54 must solve the mystery of this walking dead man before he rewrites the future — or brings it all crashing down

Bios prepared by Dr. Hye-jin Cho, Heliotrope Virtual. 7 December 2052

Heliotrope Virtual

Not just diverse—divergent

Are you looking for a talent incubator willing to take things to the “Next Level”? Look no further.

Heliotrope is a boutique virtual agency. Our operatives range from the gifted but marginalized to those whose aberrance borders on the pathological. Don't discriminate—operationalize.

Our versatility runs on limited-autonomy AI. We field Cells: small teams that work closely through our distributed systems. You will not meet other Cells face-to-face. You will not need to.

Cells are carefully selected and matched based on a proprietary three-month assessment. Clear it, and Jiru—our limited-autonomy AI—becomes your handler, cutout, and quiet enabler. Jiru parcels just enough truth to get the job done, routes your intel to the right vault, manages equipment deliveries (pending clearance), and helps keep your heat signature below street noise.

You might watch a doorway for a week and log every yellow jumpsuit that passes. You might drop a thumb drive to a Nigerian called “the Swede"—for reasons no one will explain—in a back-alley noodle shop or deliver a sealed envelope to a pediatric dentist's office on the forty-third floor of a building that, according to municipal records, has forty-two.

No two gigs look the same. They're built around the specific composition of your Cell.

This isn't special-forces cosplay. Most days are routine. A few are the kind you never speak of afterward. The occasional recurring nightmare is factored into our generous rates.

We practice layered opacity because the world does, too.

Cleaner compartmentation. Better deniability. Fewer awkward scrum meetings with management.

Every operative receives a numeric designation—say, Agent 4032—linked to your financial rails and fabricated identity. Use any moniker with your team, but the number pays the rent.

Not every assignment will make sense from your seat. Trust us, it all ties together at a level above your clearance.

Or don't. Either way, the creds will be in your account.

How do I apply?

If you’re reading this, we already have an eye on you. 

Note: your NeuroCam implant firmware will update at the start of your application process. Side effects are usually temporary.