"They?" Pseudonymous laughed nervously "w-who's 'They'?"
The man stepped foreword and grasped a hand round his throat, pressing down on his windpipe until he was spluttering for breath, rasping and writhing.
"Don't play with me, Pseudonymous." He growled "If you think I'm that much of a fool then you are VERY much mistaken."
"I don't know!" He choked. "I haven't spoken to them for years."
"I'm not an idiot, Pseudonymous!" He shouted "I know that you're in contact with them and I want you to take me to them."
"Or what?" He rasped
"I'll kill you." He growled
"Your really think I value my life that much?" Pseudonymous sneered
"If you don't tell me where they are, I will find them myself and then make all of you suffer."
He released his grip, allowing him to gulp down air and massage his bruised windpipe.
"Oh, and pseudonymous?" He turned back "You will die last."