The Playground was build over four levels with tiny individual bedspaces on top and a comfortable good-sized living area on the third floor. The kitchen nearby was well stocked, the bathrooms reasonably big and bright. The second floor was offices, the biggest of which Coulson appropriated as soon as he put his foot inside. All of the first floor was dedicated to a gigantic sitting area that moonlighted as a war room with its state-of-the-art holotable and a frankly unnecessary number of displays. May wandered about, checking for supplies, entrances and escape routes, and wondering how much time would pass before they'd be forced out of this new safe heaven again. Skye and Simmons took to decorating the living area with such an obvious posttraumatic fervor that nobody had the heart to call them on it. Tripplett disappeared the day after arriving, set to establish a line of communications with the Cube as a form to jumpstarting a small network. What should have been good news ended up in an angry lecture from Coulson about the earning of trust and possibilities of more sleeper agents in their ranks. Everybody was frail about the edges, and finally relaxing after a week on the run did not make anything easier. In fact, the inactivity was making everything worse. Waiting for news about Fitz. Waiting to safely reconnect to the rest of the once mighty intelligence network. Waiting for more Deathloks to knock on their door.

May had been the one to come up with that particular worry.

"How do we know it was the only facility they had?" She had asked after Coulson was done drilling Tripp, and Koenig was done closing the hangar door behind him. Phil looked like he had not slept at all the previous night.

"They were doing their military demonstrations there, it stands to reason it was their flagship complex. Besides, Skye's hack does not show anything else".

"They would not network with one another. I know you do not want to hear about it, and even less about the possible uses the Deathlok project might still have, but you know they'd do backups of every successful discovery they'd stumble upon. Hard backups, as we have already seen. There have to be more facilities somewhere. "

"That right now lie low. So let them lie low. We do not have the recourses."

"There might be more incentives programs."

"What do you want me to do about it, May?" It was a rare occurrence, seeing Coulson snap, and a good measure of how the situation was getting to him. "We do not know where they are. We do not know if they are obliterated, scattered, regrouping. We do not know anything about Hydra, except that it almost crushed us. Which is not helpful, at all." They had looked at one another for a long time after that, and neither said another word. Coulson had closed himself in his office afterwards. May had overheard him turning and tossing again that night, then open the door and go for a walk around the lower areas of the compound. She did not mention it the next morning. They all needed their privacy now. They had scored a victory, but the previous defeat was still looming over them.

The storage area did not count as a floor, and could only be accessed through an unassuming stairwell or a pair of very loudly screeching cargo elevators. May first went down there with the goal of running an inventory of firepower in their hands. Koenig, the round and unnaturally happy man that run the Playground, had insisted on showing her the logs, but May had wanted to check for herself. She was the team specialist now, and it was part of her job. She would have to do the same on the Bus too, if only just on principle. Ward's weapon maintenance had always been top notch before the fall, and she did not think he'd do a worse job of it in the few days the Bus had been property of Hydra, but still she felt the need to check and cleanse everything he had touched.

All in all, May was pleased by everything she had found. The cellar was dry and the walls thick and solid, offering no weak access point from that direction. One of the best features was the disposition of the storage cells, and the way they were separated one from another not by walls, but by rows of solid metal bars. It drastically increased visibility and decreased the possibility of any ambush down here, and also served as a wonderful containment unit for any enemy combatants they'd happen to have along with them. May might have beaten Ward to a pulp, but she did not want to take any chances by having to do it again. Koenig was quick to install two videocamaras on the walls outside the selected area, and two more concealed ones on the way to the stairs. Ward's foot was still a bloody, but thankfully uninfected mess, mangled enough to prevent him from pulling any of the fancier escaping moves, but all the same May had instructed Koenig to keep him shackled to one of the bars until she had the opportunity to test the solidity of his improvised cell.
"Food and water two times a day, painkillers if he looks like he needs them. That's all. Aside from that, I don't want to see you on that level. And if he ever says anything to you, I want to know immediately, and verbatim. Understood?"

"Thank you".

"What?"

"He said thank you. Yesterday. I brought him a book." Koenig shrugged at May's withering stare. "You only just said it right now, I did not know I wasn't supposed to do that. It's downright creepy down there."

"He killed you brother", was all she could say. Koenig stared back at her with his benign expression without answering. Not for the first time in the last few hours, May wondered if maybe he was some kind of robot.

"Don't come down here outside of the meal times. And make sure everybody else stays as far away as it goes".

Nobody was allowed to come down. May had made her point extensively clear and everybody was quick to nod their agreement, even if the true reason only registered with Coulson. He and May had shared another of those long, pregnant stares. She could tell he was not happy, but he also never said any different, and one of the specialities was to read between the lines. Skye had rolled her eyes and muttered how she had had enough of Ward to last a lifetime. Simmons got a pinched look on her face and stalked off. May waited until the kitchen was clear, got a couple of towels and a big jug of water, informed Koenig that she needed his assistance for a short while and made her way down. The newborn SHIELD was operating blind right now, and Coulson could not afford that.

Ward had not been stuck down there for long, yet, but even a day of solitary confinement and restriction of movement had certain influence on a man's psyche. Even the most resilient of prisoners could not avoid getting both restless and tired, which was a rather fertile combination that only waited to find an outlet. Some would rage, some would bargain, some would spew long and elaborated stories in their own defense or accuse real or imaginary third parties. Some would cry. No-one would usually confess, yet. That part rarely came from within; a nice and hard external prompting was usually needed.

Ward did not rage, nor did he bargain, and May had not really expected any elaborated stories. Any of the other reactions, she would have welcomed. Specially the rage. An argument could be made that he was just ripe for it: strong cocksure guy beaten down by a woman older than himself in front of someone he imagined could be his girl. But Ward just stood up, perfectly quiet, as soon as May walked up to him. Short haircut, neat appearance and clothes (before now, at least), big eager eyes. A fucking poster boy for any and all intelligence agency. Skye had had a good point about Hitler youth, though.

She left the items she had brought near the corner of the cell where a sandwich wrapped in brown paper and a plastic bottle of water lay, untouched. Apparently Koenig had taken to heart her short and graphic explanation about why plates and kitchen utensils were not allowed. She then backed up to a safe distance and leveled her barrel at Ward. "Turn around, keep your hands behind your back. In case you are wondering, this is an icer. The only thing your resistance will buy you is a headache and the humiliation of being manhandled like a sack of waste, again."

He obeyed wordlessly, and she nodded at Koenig and watched attentively as the plump man reattached the manacles as to free Ward from the bar while still tying his hands together behind him. After that, he opened the door and entered the cell, a metallic chair trailing behind him. May hoped it was sturdy enough. They did not exactly have all the right tools to deal with Ward here. They should have sent him to the Fridge, she thought for the tenth time that day. The guards there would have known what to do, and how to do it. But Ward and Garrett had ravaged the facility and shot the guards, and wasn't it ironical that now he was stuck in here?

"A little further from the wall", she instructed Koenig.

After the chair was positioned properly, she curtly gestured at Ward to come and sit there. There was something deeply satisfying in watching him watching her every move wordlessly, come to all the right conclusions, and despite it all comply. It took Koenig some time to satisfactory secure his already bound hands to the back of the chair. His legs were secured too, because May did not fancy a kick to the gut if Ward finally decided he could not bear the consequences of his actions meekly anymore. After that, Koenig was free to go, which May made sure he did. Ward was looking at his knees, but made eye contact as soon as she came back inside and closed the barred door. Lights were dim in this part of the cellar, but having a harsh light overhead was a topic they both did not need to participate in.

"I want your info on the Deathlok project, and on what Garrett planned to do with all the enhanced soldiers after he juiced up himself". Ward had to know if there were more buyers, and that could lead them to more Deathloks.

Ward seemed to only have two facial expressions since his capture. There was taciturn, and there was indifferent. Right now, it was the former. May had worried that he was too damaged to speak up, but since he had apparently articulated a thank you of all things to Koenig, interrogation was a go. "You know, Coulson believes I am losing my time here, because it's starting to look like you did not have the slightest idea of Garretts plans. Any of them. You literally were there just to shoot people for him. Like a garbage man."
Pride and ego down interrogation. Black Widow's favorite. Worked best on the middle ranks of any terrorist organization, powerful and reckless, prideful in their strength and their hit count. Accuse them of a weakness, and they will go out of their way to prove you wrong.

"OK, so you really don't know. Do you care to tell me what exactly are we looking at, here? Did you not know that he had a plan, or did you not know what plan was that?"
Ward's taciturn expression closed off some more, but he didn't say a word. Wanted to, by the looks of it, but still didn't. Never start talking, no matter how much sense the retort might make at the time. Never open your mouth, because there will be no closing it. An insult would lead to a threat, and that would lead to namedropping of associates who would rain vengeance on the captor. A taunt would be turned against you (never on top, Agent Ward), would in turn make you angry, would make you slip. A curse would turn into a plea, into a please no stop, into what do I have to do. These were the directives, and Ward was double trained in these things by Hydra and SHIELD both. May was slowly discovering just how freakishly good he was at following instruction. It was worth a shot, though, considering that it was the only non-violent option that remained.

"Are you planning on just staying there? You look like you are happy to be in prison. You are not even trying to escape. Will your Hydra friends not take you in you've been beaten up by a woman?"

Romanoff could get so much just playing with some deeply ingrained misogyny, and Ward had spewed out some nasty shit in their last fight. Curiously, he had never come off to May as the type before, which was quite a feat. She was always on the lookout for it, and more so assembling a team with two specialists. Nobody in SHIELD was stupid enough to be an ass to the Cavalry in her face, but there were other damning hints. Talking with the team leader one on one a bit too often, pushing for one's ideas a little too insistently, making sure to be the first to speak every damn time. Ward has done none of those things, had delegated in action often and agreeably enough. And even taking into account that he was a damn good liar, misogyny was a headspace that could not really be hidden because it was never perceived as a negative trait.

Ward did not comment on the taunt, nor on some others that followed, which was both a clever and a damning choice. If May felt like soul searching, she'd have to admit she had come down here hoping to all Asgardian deities she would not have to proceed further at all. Better, softer, slower interrogation techniques were so much more useful than open violence. Build a rapport, find a lose thread, pull on it and take your time to disentwine, and in the end you will have a solid rope that will lead you somewhere. Tear down the knot with pliers, and you won't even recognise what you've got.

"Last chance, Ward. You know what I will do right after this". The air seemed to get a little bit colder at these words, but May could have sworn that he just shrugged his shoulders at the implied threat. He was staring at his knees again, and looked for all the world like he was wondering why she was being slow in getting to the enhanced interrogation techniques. "I know what was in your file. I have read it through and through even before you were vetted. A seven level agent holds out for about fifteen seconds before tapping out. You taped out at nine, were given a redo, and taped out at eight. It's not even a shot at your bravado. I am giving you one last chance. No matter how much I hate you, I will not enjoy it. But I will do it. Think of it as a measure of how desperate you've made us, and how deep your betrayal has gone."

He had of course already seen what she had brought with her. And he was taking out a page of SHIELD's textbook on stress control in hostile environment, breathing very slowly, all his muscles going lax, awareness slowly slipping away. May slapped his head to the side, harsh and brutal, so that he would look at her, so that he'd wake up.

"Stop it, Ward. Stop it now. Don't make me destroy you for an allegiance you don't even have. Because once I start, in under two minutes you'll be ready to do anything to make it end, and you'll tell me a thousand lies, but I will not stop until you pass out and piss yourself three times over and are cringing on the floor howling out for your precious John. And then, after you have come to your senses and thought long and hard about me doing it to you all over again, only then, I will allow you to give me that intel."

She prided herself on her self control, but right now she was so angry - at Ward for being so uttely, illogically stubborn, at Coulson for not saying anything, at herself - that she could not even see straight. Up this close and personal, the treat did not only blur with reality in Ward's mind, as intended, but in her own as well. This was Bahrain all over, where her mind had to be detached from the body so she could do what she was tasked to do.

May waited for a heartbeat, than added him an extra precious few seconds. Stood behind him, put a hand on Ward's shoulder, felt him cringe minutely under the pressure of it.

"Last chance. Just take it. It'll be hard, but worth it."

He laughed then, or maybe not, but there was an ugly choking sound coming from him and he jerked once, trying to knock her hand off. May tipped the chair backwards, and making him fall down to the floor. Went to fetch the towel, soaked it through, covered his face in one efficient move. Kept pouring from the jug with one hand, the other pressing down on him to limit all his squirming. By now, gravity had filled his nostrils and the back of his throat with liquid. It did not hurt as such, of course, which is why half the agencies of the world claimed it was not a torture. They were right, of course; it was so much worse that that.

There was not an ounce of fat in him, and in the seconds when he first tried to keep still May could easily tell how that heart was skipping wildly. Ward's hands were chained at the back and crushed by their combined weights, and he could not get them free for anything. He still started to try ten seconds in, straining a couple of times and then quickly escalating in panic and strength. By fifteen seconds he was struggling against every restraint in a reaction of unabridged fear, and May could not help but think that, he had used a half of this at Cybertech, he would have crushed her then and there. His heart was hammering under her hand so quick she could not tell one beat from the next.

By thirty seconds she let up, checked the breathing and the color of the skin. By waterboarding the water never did completely block the airways, so Ward would not suffocate, not really. But just the trickles of the liquid into the nose and down the throat were enough to activate all the gag reflexes. Caught in a primitive, animal knowledge that something was completely wrong, the body could not help but clam up on its own accord, and fight uselessly while releasing wave after wave of stress hormones. Even people who could perfectly hold their breath underwater reacted just like everybody, because it wasn't about holding breath; not when the water had already broken in.

She poured, stopped, let him take three unimpeded breaths and palmed his cheek to somewhat bring him back into reality, then poured some more. Stopped again, five breaths this time, perfectly chronometered though he never truly noticed that. Thing with not breathing was, he was also not able to scream. There was just a low keening sound coming from under the cloth when the water was falling, and a wheezing when he was allowed to breath, and the metallic rattle of cuffs being jerked around and twisted on themselves. She would go on just for another minute, May decided, and not a damned second more. He would be beyond ready after that. He looked beyond ready now, except he was not even trying to say anything. Did Hydra train him better, after he failed that SHIELD resilience test twice? Or was there a major water trigger in Ward's mind somewhere? Too much or too little, how was she supposed to know? She was so not OK with this, she could not even see straight for blurring in her eyes, and she had to tell herself that this was the guy who made Fitzsimmons drown. She could be right or wrong, but Ward, he was a murderer, so anyway he was much worse. They sunk so deep in that container, it would have taken minutes to reach the surface, and they were not trained for that, they weren't ops, they had been scared, and scarred, and they fought against it...

He still had not said a word, but to May it did not matter. She could not go on anymore. She threw the cloth across the cell, pulled the chair up, freed his legs.

"That's it. Come on, it's over. Ward, hear me?"

When he completely failed to acknowledge the development, she knew which of the two extreme she had landed on. Cursing, May made him come down to the floor until he was laying on his side, and rubbed at his arms, harshly and to the point, trying to snap him back. He fought at that, a vicious short-lived mess that ended as he figured that this degree of freedom allowed him to half roll, half crawl away from until he was pressed to the corner.

"It is OK, you are OK. It's over, over, look at me."

He didn't. May made sure to approach him slowly this time, but when she came up he just made a chocking sound and shuddered with his full body. She checked his eyes (unfocused), the neck area (same grade of swelling as this morning). Both wrists were a mess and bleeding sluggishly, but she could not remove the cuffs; right now, she he could too easily kill her if he lashed out. By then he did seem like he was a little more aware, eyes tracking sluggishly and whizzing dying down. May sat by him until his heartbeat slowed down to under hundred and twenty, uncuffed him, secured the cell and went in search of Koenig in order to inquire after a thermal blanket. She started vomiting before she got to the stairwell.