Ms. Tarantula

Hidden in the city’s neon underbelly is an abandoned arcade. You sneak in through because the games still work over there. As you enter through a cracked door, a pile of broken machines sits a small spider, legs tapping across a glowing keyboard. She doesn’t stop typing when she speaks. “You’ve got bad security. I hacked your phone in under five seconds.” She finally looks up. “You got good music taste.”