Queen Consolidated had 121 employees in the main office who were listed as being highly skilled in the way of computer software and technology. Oliver Queen was painfully aware of that number, as he had gone through each and every one of their profiles in order to select the one who would be ideal to help him with his little problem. The selection process was stressful, to say the least. An employee file would tell him where each employee graduated, how long they had been working in the field, and the skills they had listed as their strongest, but it would not tell him if they were flexible, determined, or inquisitive. Oliver didn't just need someone smart. He needed someone who was detail oriented, and someone who wouldn't push him too hard to explain these side tasks he needed done. The selection process was the most work he had done at the company since returning from the island, but he was confident he had found the perfect candidate.<br/><br/>The elevator opened, and Oliver stepped into the IT department with all the confidence one would expect from someone whose family owned the company. This was the easiest part of acting like the old Oliver Queen. Confidence came easily to him, especially after the island, and he still remembered how to carry himself as a powerful businessman. Oliver had never been very active in the company before he went missing for five years, but his family had made him come to the occasional corporate event and board meeting. He had plenty of experience watching his father that he could emulate.<br/><br/>As he opened the glass doors that led to the office area, he caught a quick glance at his reflection. The person looking back at him seemed almost alien. He was still getting used to having his his dark hair cut short again, though the hint of stubble gave him at least some connection to the last few years. The biggest change was the suit. The grey suit and sharp blue tie cost a fortune, or so he was told, and felt oddly restrictive. But it wasn't the physical changes that made it hard to recognize himself. It wasn't even the clothes. Ever since he returned, Oliver Queen had been a mask, a deception. His real self was the one that put on a hood every evening, and used the list his father left him to fix his city.<br/><br/>This persona is useful, he reminded himself once more. It kept people from suspecting that he was the Arrow, but more importantly, it gave him access to resources he was going to need. Five years on an island had taught him everything he needed to know about violence, but it hadn't prepared him to decipher a computer or fix a broken piece of software. Like it or not, the Arrow needed help, even if his accomplice didn't know who she was helping.<br/><br/>His target worked in the back of the office area, which had helped just a little with the selection process. They would be able to talk without a dozen other technicians overhearing them. He came to a stop just outside the cubicle and knocked twice on the wall. "Hello? I'm looking for Felicity Smoak."