You throw the car door open and make a mad dash, knowing it will be a moment or two before your foe can wriggle more than part of his body out. You're right, and he can't pursue you, but you neglected to recall that the man is armed with a firearm. There is some good news: he's a pretty bad shot. The bad news: he still connects with three out of eight bullets. You cry out as each one strikes, but are resigned to a blissfully quick death.