When Pikachu found Stark, he was building armor on the spot. His curses could be heard from far away:
"Wasn't this supposed to be a game?! Shouldn't I just gather enough parts and have the armor pop into existence? Why do I have to hammer it together myself?!"
"This game does have a certain degree of realism," Steve advised. "Besides, if you build it yourself, the quality will be better. If one just appeared out of nowhere, would you dare pilot it?"
Stark sighed. He was still muttering under his breath, but his hands never stopped moving. After hammering and clanging away for ages, he had only managed to make an iron shell roughly comparable to his first-generation armor.
"Good Lord, I feel like I've gotten ten years younger. It's bringing back memories of those glorious days in Afghanistan..."
"Looks like you'll never escape your identity as an arms dealer."
Stark went around to the side of the armor to inspect the parts, then saw Pikachu walking toward him. He froze for a moment, then hurried to the front of the armor, ready to put it on at any time.
"Hey, relax! I'm here to make a deal!" Pikachu shouted. "Have you found your key items yet?"
"Key items?" Stark asked.
"Yes. You don't know yet? Everyone has an exclusive item that works with their skills and can greatly enhance their combat power."
"I haven't found mine," Stark said. "I was too busy scavenging parts. You have no idea how many buildings I searched before I finally scraped together the most basic armor components. Don't let me find out which bastard designed this skill set for me. Since when has technology been this inconvenient?!"
"I have a question," Pikachu said. "Since you have to hammer the armor together yourself in