Tim Duncan awoke to find himself in an odd place populated only by a pervasive gray mist. He tentatively took a step forward and was relieved to find that he was standing on some kind of solid floor, even though he could see nothing below him but an extending void filled with the fog. He looked all around him and could see nothing but mist; it appeared that his naked form was the only object of note here.
He had just begun to question his presence in this place when a man stepped out of the mist directly in front of him. Dressed in a white robe and carrying with him a golden pocketwatch, Tim immediately identified the man as Father Time, the leader and, as far as Tim knew, sole member of the secretive Timelord race. Tim had dealt with Father Time before.
“Back again to take me away, huh?” Tim mocked. “I don’t think so.” He balled his fist and prepared to deliver a crushing blow directly to Father Time’s crotch, the same tactic that had forestalled Father Time’s advance for each of the past six seasons. But when his swung fist was just millimeters from making contact, it stopped. “Wha-?” Tim exclaimed in surprise.
“That won’t work this time, Tim,” Father Time said sternly. He raised his hands above his head and then brought them down again in a swooping motion. Instantly, Tim found himself lashed tightly to some kind of hard metal object. Craning his head upwards, he could see that he was tied by his arms and legs to an oversized clock made of brass and iron. The ticking second hand rubbed against his back as it made its clockwise journey.
Father Time walked up to where Tim was bound. “You have flouted my commands too often, Tim. That is why my next action is completely justified,” Father Time said. Then, he balled his hand into a fist like Tim had done, but this time, the punch connected without incident.
“Oof,” Tim grunted, instinctively trying to move his hands to cup his injured groin.
“Now we are equal,” Father Time said, making another movement with his hands that caused the ropes around Tim’s hands and feet to fall away. Tim landed on the invisible floor with a thud, then gingerly got to his feet as the clock faded into nothingness.
“I must ask you to come with me,” Father Time said gently, taking Tim’s hand in his own while gesturing towards the foggy void with the other. A sound of ticking clocks filled the area, getting louder and louder.
The phrasing of Father Time’s request gave Tim some hope. “Do I have a choice?” he asked.
“You have earned the right to choose, Tim. Father Time had judged wrongly in the past and you have proven me wrong several times. Only you can be the true judge of your destiny.”
Tim considered the matter. His aches and pains were growing more acute by the day. His athleticism, long in decline, was almost entirely absent. He no longer felt capable of performing at the high level the fans deserved. Finally, he sighed. “I will join you.”
Father Time nodded sagely. Together, Tim and Father Time walked calmly into the timeless void, and the sound of ticking clocks grew silent for the last time.