Author's Note:

Okay guys, before you get started, I should probably say that Tom can talk to ghosts because he's something called a Medium. He's hardly one of a kind - in fact, Mediums are pretty common in places like Ecruteak, which have a lot of ghost pokemon. Mediums are able to talk to both ghost people and pokemon, and can even channel them. However, this is avoided because the spirit can be reckless and injure the host.

Tom Hudson hated pokemon since he was six years old. He hated the way people fought then for a pasttime, he hated how trendy it was for kids to go out of a "life changing adventure" with no regard to health or transportation, but most of all he hated the slobbering, hissing, screeching beasts themselves. He hated them because he was downright terrified of them. So, why was he standing like a deer in headlights, in a gym, watching HIS haunter get practically raped by another of its own kind?

It wasn't some deep question that kept him awake every night. It was just because Mom knew best. Because he had no choice when those shiny-headed monks showed up at his doorstep and told him that he was some kind of special person who had contact with the Next World. Because his mom flipped out when she heard this and told him that he HAD to join the gym so that he could be successful in life. Because he was a Medium, and ghosts liked him a lot.

"Hrrright, ghostthing go use shadow claw or whatever..?"

A flash of red suddenly filled his mind - anger, hurt ... food?

"Okay, Pa-ni-ni. God you don't have to be so anal about it... Use Shadow cl-" he began to snap and shake his fists, but it was all over before he could even make a good retort.

So that was that. Panini was down and out with glowy plasmic goo seeping from a couple of gashes and the other ghost was making little victory flips in the air.

"...Well that was a waste of time." Morty smirked, snorted, and held up a pokeball to recall his happy little haunter before he promptly turned around and walked off.

"What? No, wait! I can rematch you- I mean, uh, let's have a rematch!" Tom stumbled after the gym leader, but the man just stopped, whirled around and said:

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why because?"

Morty tightened his jaw and glared at Tom, "Because you're the most average student I've ever had. You've never won a fight on your own, you can't even control your pokemon."

The medium recoiled from the biting comment. Not because of what he said, but the way he said it. Like it was just fact and there was nothing he could do about it. His shoulders rose.

"Well you know what?" he growled angrily. "Fine. Fine! Fining f- fucking fine! It's not like I wanted to be here! Hell, I could be at home doing whatever and enjoying myself, but nooooo. Instead, I had to come here, where everybody's always barking orders at me and telling me to control those... things! I'm not a soldier or anything, you know... "

The sudden outburst left behind a deafening silence. It wasn't the first time this happened, but usually the Ecruteak gym leader dismissed him with an what-the-fuck stare and continued on his way. Not now. This was the last straw.

"Goddammit, Tom. Then get out of my gym. If you're going to wet yourself every time you see a pokemon, then you'll never be a trainer."

One thing Tom absolutely hated about Morty was that he never raised his voice. He'd always talk in that way that made you feel like you were just a waste of time and space, so when he kicked him out -fired him, in a way- Tom wasn't reeeeally complaining. Even if he was going to get his ears (possibly his whole face) chewed off when he got home, it was worth it.

He bit his lip, stalked back to the arena, withdrew his whimpering ghost and stormed out after slamming the door; twice for good measure.

Tom hated pokemon. A lot. And that's why he sucked at it.

As Tom finally arrived at the doorstep of his house and timidly turned to extravagant doorknob, he knew that his mom had had some company. No, he wasn't a psychic or some sort of detective.

Definitely not a psychic, ugh. He didn't know much about them, but the one or two he met a long time ago acted like they had a stick up their ass. Some rivalry between them and mediums that he didn't give a rattatta's hiney about.

The stumbling shadow behind the entrance's windows (obviously the visitor's) had finally reached its method of escape and poor Tom had to duck away just to avoid getting his face bashed in by a baffled young man who looked about twenty.

The medium snickered and shook his head slowly; he was used to this kind of thing.

Then he walked right in.

And who else was waiting for him but a woman sprawled semi-suggestively across an extravagant couch. As soon as her hazel, alcohol-hazed eyes fell on him, she propped herself up and smiled. Heaving softly, she managed to pull herself up from her twisted position and walk over to him. He stiffened slightly at her touch as she wrapped her arms around him a little too tightly.

"Hi mom..." Tom managed to squeak, pushing away gently to get some breathing space away from the woman's breasts only to have his face defiantly shoved closer.

"Mom, I can't breath."

"Awh, come on, you're gonna have to get used to it eventually if you want anyone to respect you." his mother replied playfully and finally let go so she could play with her bed-headed brown hair.

"Yeah, but you're my MOM! That's just not right," Tom replied with a frown, scratching the back of his head as his face flushed three shades of red.

At this, the lightly intoxicated woman yawned boredly and sauntered back over to the couch where she plopped down and leaned back her head. "Soooo, how was training?"

A prickle of fear nipped at Tom's spine. "Uhhh, well, about that..." he began, "I kind oooooof got kicked out..."

"Ki- WHA?" his mom screeched, jabbing at the air for emphasis, "how could they kick you out? You're MY son! Katherine Keegan's!" He could see sparks flying from her eyes as she shot out and started pacing back and fourth like a crazy banshee.

"Well, you see, it's not exa-"

"That JERK! And even after I said I would..."

"Mom, it-"

"AUUUUURRRGGGGG!"

"MO-"

"WHAT?"

"... never mind."

Best to let this one slide.

"Ohhhh this is great," Katherine slumped and smacked her palm to her forehead to ponder. It wasn't long til she'd come to peace with the idea - twenty seven seconds exactly. "Ah well, who needs `em. We'll find you a new teacher!"

Tom frowned for what felt like the thousandth time today, "I don't want to be a trainer..."

The woman drew to a halt at this. Turning to Tom she stared at him for a long... long... time.

"Why?" She asked slowly, confused. That was just friggin inconceivable.

"I'm... kind of scared of them..." he whispered in shame.

"Eh, okay." She was a bit too agreeable today, "want to go over to that Kimono Girl house thing for dinner?"

And that was how Tom did NOT start his long epic journey to become a pokemon master.