One of the workshops in the Engineering department had been hastily converted by the student protestors into something of an iron monger's; building barricades, shields and other weapons intended to fend off police incursions. A bench was quickly cleared and a sextet of students dragged the damaged and soiled body of Inframan off the floor and pulled a spotlight over the workspace. Almost immediately, an argument started in both English and Cantonese over how to approach the, seemingly-impossible, task of repairing a bionic superhero built in the 1970s. The tools at hand in the workshop were reasonable, especially given the many student hands they had passed through over the years, but none were of a Super Science Team quality, even going back forty years. Vice-grips and pliers removed wedged bullets and knife-tips while ratchet-straps from someone's car kept Inframan from thrashing too badly, but it took an enterprising handyman with a grinder and an old screwdriver to finally make a tool that could unfasten the chest-plate.
The insides of Inframan were shockingly sleek and chrome, even with the years of storage and the recent battle. A collection of esoteric pumps, pistons, tubes and circuits kept the robotic and human elements of Inframan running and in sync. A few probings and measurements were made gingerly, no one wanting to risk damaging the apparatus, but each feeling that doing nothing may actually be worse. A medical student produced a stethoscope and confirmed something reminiscent of a heartbeat, though what that meant remained a mystery to everyone present.
The bustle and jabber of the room fell silent with the entry of Cassandra Cain, a Criminology/Psychology student whose fierce intellect and general intensity gave her a palpable aura of "don't fuck with me". In a personally unique combination of English, Mandarin and at least two forms of sign language, Cain cleared the room in seconds. Flipping open a custom-built communication device a few years ahead of consumer electronics, Cain made contact with Oracle, another former holder of the Batgirl mantle, and technical advisor for the Justice League as well as what Nightwing jokingly called the "Bat-Family", of which she was a part. Typically Oracle was represented on-screen by a cryptic symbol, but as she and Cassandra had become close friends during the "No Man's Land" debacle, so she could see Barbara's bespectacled face. She signed "I'm in." in American Sign Language at the screen and awaited instruction.
Oracle quickly ran Cain through the process of connecting her device to Inframan's archaic Coaxial Network port, which required some quick soldering with whatever in the USB family Cassie could find lying around and a small amount of swearing. The data stream was patchy, but enough that Oracle could pull out the pertinent bytes and get them running on her hyper-advanced system. For all the leaps and bounds which computing had taken since Inframan was constructed, the process of converting from archaic programming languages intended for Mandarin speakers into something that could run now in something appropriating English (though both Oracle and Cassandra spoke multiple languages) took time. So that precious moments weren't wasted, Cassandra finished up the work of removing foreign objects and any obvious damage she could with the available tools.
Oracle grumbled something about data corruption and magnetic tape, Cassandra suppressing a smile; Barbara wouldn't bat an eyelid facing a horde or armed bikers, but mess with her system and the griping would never stop. The code-name Oracle was not factitious however, and soon a facsimile of Inframan's personality was running on a virtual clone of the famous Bat-Computer like any other program.
"Where am I?" even through the synthesizer, the voice was clearly of a scared and confused man, "I can't see."
"You're in an engineering lab in Hong Kong," Cassie didn't have the most soothing voice, having not learned to talk until nearly an adult, "what is the last thing you remember Officer Hayama?"
The cyborg did his best to look around with his limited movement, shaking violently as ancient servos ground together. Instinctively, Cassie put Inframan's hand in her own and squeezed, taking a moment to recall that the appendage was entirely metal and plastic.
"I had just helped the police halt a riot in Hong Kong," Hayama ceased trying to turn his head, "I needed repairs, so they put me under, it was 1992."
"It's 2018," Cassie had been raised to favour directness, time spent with other Bat-heroes had not softened this edge, "you have been warehoused for decades because there was not the funding to repair you."
Two sounds filled the space, one was the low electronic buzzing that Cassie had come to associate with Oracle exhaling through her nostrils in lieu of sighing, and a kind of popping like old mobile phone signals interfering with a speaker. In a moment of clarity, she realised that Inframan was sobbing as best as his vocal synthesizer allowed.
"Officer Hayama," Oracle's voice cut into the reverie, "do you recall the man you fought tonight? The reason you were damaged and why you were brought here?"
With the sound of a physical drive starting up, Inframan's eyes began to flicker like an antique pinball machine and his body became rigidly still. Cassie's laptop screen opened a new window that Oracle sent, showing the fight between Inframan and the Masked Warrior from a first-person perspective. An analysis of the Masked Warrior's movements began and soon his Bat-Computer file was scrolling next to the playing footage. Cassie noticed that even Batman hadn't confirmed his identity, having instead a list of around four suspects of varying likelihood.
"Masked Warrior, vigilante, Shanghai based, likely legacy title," Inframan recited the information as he received it, "typically battles organised crime, why was he fighting me?"
"A lot has changed since you were last awake," Cassie's directness was occasionally a boon, "Hong Kong is Chinese territory again and the People's Army is attempting to occupy the city. The people of Hong Kong are resisting, but have no international support and the elections are rigged. They need a champion again."
A series of drive noises and flashing lights accompanied a very robotic twitching as Inframan processed the new data. The screen now showed a rapid series of images of the Hong Kong riots interposed with monster battles and representations of the British occupation. The robotic hands began to flex and Cassie withdrew hers before it was crushed. All a sudden, the lights and movement stopped.
"Fix me," Inframan demanded, "I need to defend my city."