After spending an entire day with the Weapons R&D Division, Thea formed a general impression: everything was scattered and unstructured. They researched whatever popped into their heads. She wanted to do something about it, but she couldn't just cart their prototypes away.
That's the downside of modern corporate systems—everything is locked down by rules. Even if she became CEO, she couldn't simply take company property as if it were her own. Batman's gear had been "procured" through collusion between his alter ego and the company's CEO, cooked through off-the-books accounting. If she remembered correctly, he'd even staged a daring "heist" to steal his own equipment once or twice.
It was hilarious in the movie, but when the situation landed on her lap, it was just frustrating. She couldn't walk to the warehouse manager and say, "For the sake of a more humane workflow, I'll be checking out two missiles." Or, "Those submachine guns look great—give me five thousand rounds of ammo to decorate my office."
Besides, even if she moved things out, she had nowhere to machine them. Maybe she could use that Queen Steel Fabrication & Welding Plant, the place that would one day become Oliver's base? No—Moira watched her too closely. She simply didn't have the time.
Over the next few days, Thea kept dropping by the R&D department. If she couldn't take anything home, at least she could feast her eyes. Dr. Hoffman didn't object to the young heiress who preferred explosives and rockets over jewels and dinner parties. They chatted now and then, and time drifted by.
Moira, of course, knew where her daughter was spending her hours. She wondered if Thea was still trapped in the shadow of past trauma; otherwise, what kind of girl liked planes and cannons?
Malcolm Merlyn, on the other hand, didn't see a problem. He himself hovered somewhere between mad and half-mad. He merely had his aides check what weapons Thea was interested in. The analysts reported she fixated on high-tech, high-destructive-power systems. What was she planning—apocalypse? He only intended to level the Glades; had his daughter inherited his blood and gone even further?
One morning, after Thea spent yet another half day with Dr. Hoffman discussing medium-range missiles, Moira couldn't sit still. She decided to give her daughter something to do—in other words, to add weight to her shoulders.
"Thea, take a look at this file."
"The company wants to expand the Software Department? Great. Go ahead," Thea said, puzzled. Why bring this to me?
"I'm putting you in charge of establishing the Software Department and running it afterward." Moira thought privately: Queen Consolidated was a titan of steel; capital and talent were mostly tied up in heavy industry. The Software Department was an empty shell with nothing inside. Let Thea tinker with it at her own pace. And software? She figured no matter how much Thea fussed, it wouldn't move the needle much—this from someone who hadn't yet met true artificial intelligence.
Thea didn't overthink it. She only knew she finally had some authority and wouldn't just be the girl carrying bags and fetching water. "Assistant" sounded nice, but the work was scattered and passive, totally at odds with her personality. At last, she could take charge. Wonderful!
"Where will I be working?" Every room in HQ was already occupied. She'd been here long enough and hadn't seen a single door plaque that said "Software Department."
"You can pick a location from the properties under the company's name. Everything will be up to you. Show Mom what you can do," Moira said encouragingly.
For real? Good news upon good news. Autonomy? Free choice of site? No question—she'd take over the place that would be Green Arrow's future base. He could find himself a new lair later.
But she couldn't name it outright. She needed to put on a show and "survey" sites first. "I understand. I'll work hard and deliver results," she said.
Authorized to second up to ten employees to form the Software Department—with the rest to be hired independently—Thea hummed a tune as she happily left the president's office.
Seeing no complaint on her daughter's face, Moira let out a breath—again. Why "again"? Because this daughter was too unusual: diligent at work, hardworking at study, ambitious to a frightening degree. Look at Tommy—perfectly content to idle away his days at Merlyn Global, flirting with receptionists, and never talking about martial arts or missile research.
Moira picked up the phone, told her secretary to book Dr. Hoffman a Europe family tour package under the company tab. He was to take his whole family and have fun—with one condition: don't come back for three months.
Dr. Hoffman's wife had passed away years ago. When he received the company's gift, he figured, "Why not?" He took his two sons, his daughter, and their dog on a grand tour of Europe—and ultimately met the love of his later life on the Aegean Sea. He would be forever grateful to the company. But that's another story.
Unaware that her actions had set her new friend on a path to romance, Thea returned to her desk in high spirits. She reread the file twice. Heaven was on her side! If it had been any other department, she might have hesitated. But software? Ha! She knew Felicity Smoak. With a world-class hacker like Felicity, what software couldn't they build?
Since their last night out, the two had become very good friends. Strange as it sounded, two women could indeed drink their way into camaraderie. Truly, the dinner table—bar or not—was the soil where bonds grow, regardless of gender.
She hadn't yet visited Felicity's office area. Would Felicity help her? Thea felt a flutter of nerves. Would Felicity agree to leave her comfy, low-effort post to run around with Thea? If she refused, it wouldn't be the end of the world. She could always… issue a "mandatory order," heh.
Felicity's workplace was tucked well out of sight: Corporate Archives – Information Technology Unit. Following the tiny plaques, Thea finally found the department in a corner of the second floor. The corner practically came with a built-in cloaking device—Thea swore she'd never noticed it once in all her days here.
The future Watchtower's IT girl, Felicity Smoak, had her glasses off and was fast asleep on her desk. The girl must've slathered on a lot of lipstick, because the drool had stained a big red patch on her sleeve.
Thea tapped the desk. "Hey, hey—wake up. Nap time's over."
Miss Smoak blinked groggily, stared for a long moment, then put on her glasses and examined Thea again. "Thea? Is it quitting time? You here to take me out for drinks?"
Wow. Was this girl a secret lush? That wasn't in the script—wasn't she supposed to be a homebody? Caught up in the moment, Thea blurted out, "Felicity, will you come with me?"
Felicity's face went utterly blank. She murmured, "Are you… are you confessing to me? I… I need to think about this…"
Thea nearly lost it. How did you get that from what I said? Then, after a beat, she realized the fault wasn't entirely Felicity's. The question she'd asked… did sound a little misleading.