From his perspective: The car screeched to a stop alongside him halfway down the block. "Get in!" she said, all brusque business. Bullets spanged off the far side of the sedan, he threw himself in screaming, and she peeled away. Then she explained.

From her perspective: She pulled up as he turned the corner and said, "Get in."

"Uh, no?" He looked around.

"You're in danger. We can help."

He walked faster. When she paced him in the car, he ran, then ran into a bullet.

She reset.

She waited an extra thirty seconds, but this time gunfire rang out as she turned the corner and she only caught up with his body.

She reset.

She came earlier, but coasting along the street weirded him out and chased off the shooters. He said no.

She slowed down just a notch, but traffic trapped her, leaving her slamming the horn as he got gunned down.

She tried a different route, but it took so long she didn't even turn onto a street now crowded with police and EMS.

She reset, she reset, she reset.

By the time she got to the one he'd remember, she had no room left for "nice."