When the patrol came across him, Ward let himself be caught and only put up a token amount of resistance. It was a delicate balance, fighting back enough to make it seem believable and that his capture wasn't staged, but not to the level they might consider it easier to kill him out right. His cover was solid and created to raise just enough flags to pique their interest once they ran his ID. The idea was for them to think he was valuable enough that they'd take him to their headquarters. Once he was there, S.H.I.E.L.D. could get a location on it via the tracking device he had hidden in his watch, come in guns blazing and arrest them all in one fell swoop.
All had been going the way he'd expected. They'd thrown him in the back of a truck and driven him through a maze of old trails and half destroyed buildings before arriving at their destination. As suspected they roughed him up a little, but he sustained no major injuries, nothing that would slow him down later. The cuffs and shackles they'd used on him were old and he'd have no trouble getting out of them once he was away from prying eyes, thanks to his hidden lock pick. He even managed to get a decent look at the layout of the building as he was dragged through it. The plan was for him to escape from the cell or interrogation room they stuck him in and do whatever damage he could to aid in the takedown, but that all went south when he found himself dragged into the bowels of their citadel and dumped into an oubliette without so much as a warning.
Getting his feet under him, he rolled over and managed to look up in time to see smooth brickwork on the round walls leading up to the opening at least ten feet overhead before the hatch was slammed down, sealing him in complete darkness. Panic began to set in, not only due to his own issues (it wasn't the well, but it was close enough), but also because the range on the tracker was limited. Underground, surrounded by brick and cement, would it still work? He took a deep breath and then another. He could do this. Pulling the lock pick out of his boot he pictured the restraints in his head and got to work. It took quite a bit longer than he'd have liked, fighting the dark and a bit of the lingering fear that he couldn't quite seem to shake, but he'd managed to free himself eventually.
Not that having his hands and feet free would mean anything if he couldn't get out of this damn hole. No matter how high he jumped he couldn't more than brush his fingertips across the hatch and there was nothing hanging down to grab onto there. He felt his way around the perimeter, but his examination of the walls didn't succeed in anything other than scraping the hell out of his fingers. There were no handholds, no protrusions to push off of, nothing that could help him climb out. The floor was hard packed earth, there were a few divots, but there would be no way he could dig himself out.
Whoever had built the oubliette had been smart. Despite being tall, the space between the walls were too wide for him to brace his back against one side and use his feet to lever himself up and climb to the top. Due to the circular nature there were no corners to use either. He took off his boots and socks and tried scaling the brickwork using just his fingertips and toes but only managed to make it up the wall a few inches. After the third time he fell, his ankle twisting painfully under him yet again, he gave up. He'd put back on his socks and was just lacing up the boots when a creaking noise from above startled him.
The hatch flew open. The light that shone in was weak, but practically blinding after his time in complete darkness. "Howdy, stranger." May peered down at him. "Need a hand?"
"One sec." He blinked a few times, adjusting his eyes to the light and made quick work of tying on his boots before standing to his full height. "Got a rope?"
"Got better than that," she said as she lowered a ladder and after a bit of finagling eventually steadied it by slotting it into two of small indentations on the floor. "Can you manage?" Her eyes sweep around the room and she unholstered one of her guns.
Choosing to show her rather than answer, quickly, but carefully, Ward made his way up and out of the
claustrophobic hell and onto the stone floor. His ankle protested having his full weight on it, but he ignored it, holding his hand out for a weapon he was certain May would provide. "Exit strategy?"
She unslung an assault rifle from over her shoulder and passed it over. It was an AK-47 she'd obvious liberated from one of his captors. Not his favorite model by any means, and it wasn't in the best shape, but beggars can't be choosers and it would certainly do in a pinch. "We get out. S.H.I.E.L.D. levels the place and then scoops up any stragglers."
"Works for me," he said as he checked the weapon over quickly. "Have to admit, I wasn't sure the signal would reach you guys. I wasn't here long before they put me down there and with all that brick and everything I figured it was good odds it'd be blocked until they let me out." If they'd let him out. And who knew how long they'd have left him down there first. He stopped himself from shuddering at the thought, but May picked up on his unease.
"We weren't going to let a little thing like a weak signal stop us from completing the mission." It warmed him to realize the 'or rescuing him' was unspoken, but implied. "Pick up's in ten. Let's go."
He readied the rifle. "Right behind you."