After a late night rolling gunfight down two blocks in Illiums industrial district, Shepard has chased his target and his last two goons into a factory.
They get the brilliant idea to stop running and start hunting him back since they have him out numbered.
They turn on as many machines as they can so he can't track them by sound. After a few minutes the boss, circling around the outer wall, looks up at the hooks hanging from chains moving along a rail on the ceiling. He nearly drops his gun when one of his guys emerges from the shadows, a hook through his chest.
Leaving the corpse to keep making its laps, he heads for the exit. As he goes, he finds the other guy, or part of him. A leg is sticking out the side of a compactor while a large puddle spreads beneath it.
He breaks into a sprint for the door but a heavy chain swings out from around a corner and slams into his chest, knocking him to the ground. Before he can recover his breath a hand is around his throat, dragging him towards a hydraulic press.
Shepard pushes him onto the table and lowers the ram down onto his chest, applying enough pressure to make breathing difficult.
"Who did you sell them to?"
"Fuck you!"
He increases the pressure. When ribs begin to creak, the slimeballs resolve fails him.
"O-okay, fuck, you made your point!"
Shepard backs the ram up just enough so he can talk.
"I sold them to some squints on Omega. I swear to god I don't know their names! They were real secretive, you've got everybody scared shitless."
He mulls it over for a second, trying to decide if the scumbag was just telling him what he wanted to hear or the truth. It adds up, Omegas black markets are an easy place to sell stolen organs and it makes sense that they would remain nameless.
"Fair enough."
"Alright, now let me out of this fucking thing."
He sets the pressure to increase as slowly as the machine can go and walks away, ignoring the pleas and the screams.