๐งก ํ๋ฉด ํ์ชฝ์ ์์, ํ ์ชฝ์ ์ด ํฌ์คํธ
window ํค + ์ข์ฐ ๋ฐฉํฅํค
๐งก ๊ตต์ ๊ธ์จ : ์ตํ ๊ตฌ๋ฌธ
๋ฐ ์ค : ์ ์๋ค๋ฆฌ๋ ๋ถ๋ถ
* : ๊ตต์ ๊ธ์จ ๋ถ์ฐ ์ค๋ช
, ์ฌ์ ๋ป
# : ์ฌ ์ ํ, ์ํฉ ์ ํ
# Breaking Bad
#
All right, everybody.
Listen up.
Tuco Salamanca.
For those of you who were
not with us this morning,
we raided his headquarters.
Also his last known address.
Even the little den
of iniquity *๋ถ๋น์ฑ, ๋ถ๋นํ ๊ฒ
he keeps for his
meth hag girlfriend. *์ญ๊ทธ๋ ํ ๋ง๊ตฌ (→fag hag)
We netted a bunch * (๊ต๋ฌํ๊ฒ ์ฌ๋์) ์ก๋ค, (๋ฌด์์) ํ๋ํ๋ค
of his lieutenants.
The big man himself
smelled us coming.
So...
Study the face.
Study the file.
Get a big ol'
raging hard on
at the idea of catching
this piece of shit.
Oh. My apologies
to the HR department.
Grow tumescent *(ํนํ ์ฑ์ ์ผ๋ก ํฅ๋ถํ์ฌ) ๋ถํ์ด ์ค๋ฅธ (=swollen)
with anticipation.
All right.
On the hit parade, 1998.
Reputed to have whacked
one "Dog" Paulson,
back when our
home-grown banditos
where wrestling
the crank trade
away from the So Cal
biker gangs.
Also, we're pretty sure
he knifed
a Mexican national
in '03.
And for my money,
seeing how he customarily
deals with rivals,
I'd say he is
a prime suspect
in the disappearance
of our dearly-missed
Krazy 8.
Hats over your heart
for that dirtball.
We hauled Tuco in for
questioning on that one,
but as usual,
we couldn't make it stick. *์ค์ฆ(ๅฏฆ่ญ)ํ๋ค, ์ ํจ๋ก ํ๋ค
Yeah, he runs a tight ship. *์ฌ๋๋ค์ ๋ฐ์ง ๋ค์ก์ผ๋ฉฐ ๋ฅ์ํ๊ฒ ์ด์ํด ๋๊ฐ๋ค
smug bastard.
And even worse, El Paso says
he's got some kind
of cartel connection.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I know it's, uh--
We all know what's
going on down there.
We sure as hell don't
want it going on up here.
Which brings us
to the good news.
We finally got some
actual, honest-to-God
evidence.
This is one of
Tuco's henchmen. *(์ ์น ์ง๋์·๊นกํจ ๋๋ชฉ ๋ฑ์) ์ฌ๋ณต
Street name, No Doze.
Found him tucked
in the junkyard,
along with Tuco's own
brother-in-law,
a.k.a. Gonzo.
Gonzo, this, uh,
rocket scientist,
was moving No Doze's body,
either hiding it there
or pulling it out,
we're still not sure,
when he got his arm
crushed clean off.
Anyone wanna see the photos,
they're on my Web site.
Hilarious. Anyway.
The upshot is, *(์ต์ข
์ ์ธ) ๊ฒฐ๊ณผ, ๊ฒฐ๋ง (=outcome)
we got us a nice,
big, juicy,
bloody fingerprint,
which belongs
to Señor Tuco.
Christmas came early
to the Schrader household.
That is, provided
we find this guy.
So to all present,
I ask you, you wanna
find this guy?
Yes.
Yes.
What the hell was that?
Jesus.
Wanna try that again?
Do you want
to find this guy?
Yes!
Are we going
to find this guy?
Yes!
Louder, damn it!
Yes!
Give me a hell, yeah!
Hell, yeah!
Hell, yeah!
Hell, yeah!
Hell, yeah!
They ain't gonna find him.
Guy's in Mexico by now.
Appearances, Gomie.
It's all about
appearances.
Listen, I gotta take
some personal time.
Now, in the middle
of a manhunt? *(์กฐ์ง์ ์ธ) ๋ฒ์ธ[ํ์ฃผ์] ์์
Skyler called last night.
It's Walt.
He's missing.
Just disappeared
from the house,
and no one's heard
from him since.
Damn. You don't think he--
Holler if you need me.
All right.
Thanks a lot, man.
Appreciate that.
#
This is the most
recent photo.
We haven't taken
many lately, so--
Um, but that's what
he looks like now.
Without the hair.
Hey, it's me.
Hey, Tim.
Really appreciate you
sparing us your day off. *(์๊ฐ๋ ๋ฑ์) ํ ์ ํ๋ค[๋ด๋ค/๋ด์ด ์ฃผ๋ค]
No worries.
Happy to help.
Yeah, this is helpful.
Good.
What about height
and weight?
Uh. Five eleven, um--
most recently,
about 170.
Um, 165.
That's what I weigh.
I guess, uh...
he weighs
a little less.
That's fine.
That's close enough.
Good.
What about other
distinguishing features?
Tattoos or moles * (ํผ๋ถ ์์ ์๊ฒ ๋์ ์ง๊ฐ์) ์ (→freckle)
or scars?
Anything that
might help us--
Um, tattoos?
Um, no. Not really.
No.
That's fine.
Is that the list
of medications?
Yes. I wrote them all down.
And there's no drug
interactions.
None that are listed.
Um, I called
his doctor, so, no.
Has he been depressed?
He's, um--
He's been withdrawn lately. * ๋ด์ฑ์ ์ธ, ๋ดํฅ์ ์ธ
A little withdrawn.
Um, last night,
he was, uh...
agitated. *๋ถ์ํดํ๋, ๋์๋
Agitated.
Yeah. When he came
home last night,
he was, um--
He-- Agitated-- Upset.
Upset in general?
Or upset because of
something particular?
Um..
When I asked him
what was wrong,
he said...
"I don't know
where to begin."
Um, then he just walked
out of the room--
out of the bathroom--
I was in the tub.
I was taking a bath.
And when I came out
about ten minutes later,
he was gone.
Nothing else missing?
Um, his keys, wallet,
cell phone.
Just what was on him.
Um-- But--
What about the phone call?
I'm looking into it.
What phone call?
Walt's cell phone rang.
He-- He pulled it out,
looked at it,
and didn't answer it.
But then,
a short time after,
he wandered
out of the bathroom.
I mean...
couldn't that be...
important, right?
Anything else
you can think of?
Anything else. Um...
I called
the credit card providers,
and, um,
there's no report
of any recent activity.
I-- Let's see--
I checked
with every hospital
within 50 miles.
Every police station.
Every morgue.
So, no, I really don't--
I don't have anything else.
I was actually hoping
that you had something else,
being that you're
the expert.
I'm-- I'm sorry.
No worries.
I think this is
good enough to start.
Gives us plenty
to work on.
Mrs. White?
Thank you.
Walter?
Thank you.
#
So that cell phone call
she's talking about?
I ran it.
And?
Never happened.
No record of it.
Second cell phone.
Yeah. I'm thinkin'--
#
I understand.
Out!
Get away from me!
Settle down, bitch!
You gonna shoot me?
Huh? Shoot me in here!
I hope I bleed
like a mother, too!
That way,
you have to clean it up!
Oh!
It's your ride, retard.
I ain't gotta clean jack.
Now get out!
Get up!
Get up.
Don't do this, Tuco.
#
<i>โช I held up โช</i>
<i>โช A light to a smoke โช</i>
<i>โช But the redness โช</i>
<i>โช Blows it away โช</i>
<i>โช And the night is cold โช</i>
<i>โช And the clouds go by โช</i>
<i>โช Tomorrow morning โช</i>
<i>โช I hope โช</i>
<i>โช To be home โช</i>
<i>โช By your side โช</i>
No more posters?
Walter Junior's making more.
Thank you, Marie.
I don't think
he'll hurt himself.
I mean, he just doesn't
strike me as the type.
He'll turn up.
Okay, the whole tiara thing--
I just find it
bewildering that-- *์ด๋ฆฌ๋ฅ์ ํ๊ฒ[๊ฐํผ๋ฅผ ๋ชป ์ก๊ฒ] ๋ง๋๋ (=confusing)
Marie.
didn't believe that--
Marie.
Not now.
#
Empty your pockets.
Oh.
Thought your name
was Heisenberg,
"Walter Hartwell White."
Heisenberg is kind of
a pseudonym.
You know,
a business name.
Yeah.
I like doing business
with a family man.
There's always
a lot of collateral. *๋ด๋ณด๋ฌผ
Answer me one thing.
Can I trust you?
Yes. Yes, absolutely.
Sit down.
DEA...
...hit my place
of business
this morning.
About a hundred cops
looking for me.
You two haven't
been talking, right?
No.
No.
Ah.
Picked up my whole crew,
top to bottom.
Everybody except Gonzo.
That's weird, right?
I mean, don't you think
that that's weird?
That's weird. Yes.
Unusual.
Unusual.
Last two days,
I couldn't get Gonzo
on the phone.
He's been acting all pouty *๋ฟ๋ฃจํํ(sulky), ํ ๋ผ์ง๊ธฐ ์ํ๋
on account of No Doze. * ~ ๋๋ฌธ์, ~์ผ๋ก
Explain to me,
how is it my fault
that that little bitch
did not know his place?
I saw this coming.
I can see the future,
you know?
It's this gift that I have
deep inside my head.
I knew last night
they were going to come
and try and bust me.
Gonzo--
He went and snitched
to the cops!
That lousy son of a bitch! * (์์ฃผ) ์ ์ข์, ์๋ง์ธ (=awful,terrible)
I trusted him
like a brother!
I was good to him!
I was good!
I see Gonzo,
I'm going to gut him, *(์๋ฆฌ๋ฅผ ํ๊ธฐ ์ํด ์์ ๋๋ฌผ์) ๋ด์ฅ์ ์ ๊ฑฐํ๋ค
I'm going to skin him,
and I'm going to stuff
his hide for a heavy bag, *(ํนํ ๊ฐ์ฃฝ ์ ํ์ ์ฐ์ด๋ ์ง์น์) ๊ฐ์ฃฝ
and every time I hit him,
it's going to be like
a lesson to myself!
You never, never trust
the people that you love!
So, you plan to ice Gonzo,
like, future tense?
What?
You're-- you're saying--
Tuco, you're saying
that Gonzo is currently
operating as
a police informant,
as far as you know?
I'm very sorry to hear that.
That's disappointing.
Yeah. I'd waste him,
too, yo.
Shut up.
Okay.
They're out there
looking for me right now.
They got ghetto birds *๊ฒฝ์ฐฐ ํฌ๋ฆฌ์ฝฅํฐ (=ghetto copter)
and black ops.
I need to get high.
I need to get good and high.
Aah!
Whoa. What's with this gak?
It smells like headcheese. *(ํธ์ก์ผ๋ก ๋จน๋ ์๋ ๋ผ์ง์) ๋จธ๋ฆฌ ๊ณ ๊ธฐ
No, it's, uh--
It's killer.
Yeah, seriously.
So, I was thinking
last night.
I came up with
this great idea.
México.
Mexico?
We'll disappear
way out in the jungle.
We'll set you up
in a superlab.
We'll do nothing
but cook 24-7.
<i>And no federales
are going to mess with us,</i>
because I got
my people there.
Connections.
We're going to make
beaucoup bucks, *A lot of money
Heisenberg, huh?
Tuco, I--
I have a wife and family.
So what?
You'll get another one.
I don't want you
to take this the wrong way,
but I can't just...
uproot my life like that. *์ค๋ ์ด๋ ๊ณณ์์ ๋ ๋๋ค[๋ ๋๊ฒ ๋ง๋ค๋ค]
Yeah, man.
I mean, me, neither.
Who's talking to you?
Hey, you-- you need me, man,
'cause I cooked that scante
in your hands.
Yeah.
I'll tell you something, yo.
You never tried
nothing like it.
Stink or no stink,
one bump,
you'll be flying high
for days.
It's a new product him
and I been working up.
Careful when you hit it.
It kicks like a 12-gauge
when it comes on.
It's got
a secret ingredient.
What secret ingredient?
Chili powder.
I hate chili powder.
This blue magic,
this is money.
Huh?
You keep cooking this,
Heisenberg.
Ah!
Were going to rewrite
history with this.
All right!
Time to clean the menudo out
from between your ears!
No, I need him, Tuco.
I need him very, very badly.
He's my partner.
And if he doesn't go,
I don't go.
I'll tell you this,
my cousins are driving
up here right now
to smuggle us back down,
and they're going
to be here by sunset,
and you're going
to be on that truck,
or you're going
to be dead!
And you--
You better hope
they got room in the trunk.
#
Where are you going?
Louis is taking me
to the train station.
We'll put these up.
No, no, honey.
No, I'll do it.
He wants to help,
let him help.
I mean,
how long has it been
since you've slept?
Yeah, she's right, Sky.
Why don't you
lay down a while?
For christ sake,
you got a bun in the oven.
I got my cell
if you need me.
Okay?
Okay.
Bye, sweetie.
I'll see you later.
All right. Bye.
Actually,
I think the very fact
they haven't
found him yet...
...bodes well. * …์ ์ง์กฐ๊ฐ ๋๋ค, ์กฐ์ง์ด๋ค
Well, I mean, if he--
You know.
Somebody would've smelled
something by now.
There's-- There's got
to be something--
some detail that we
haven't picked up on.
What about
the second cell phone?
Aw, Jesus.
What?
We can't just ignore
a potential clue, Hank.
Okay. What are you
talking about?
Uh, the call
you said Walt got
before he disappeared,
there's no record of it
with the phone company.
Uh, no incoming,
no dropped calls, nothing.
But his phone rang.
I heard it.
Well, all right.
Well, then,
if that's the case,
he must have
a second phone.
Why? What sense
would there be in that?
Yeah. All right. Okay.
I'm not here to argue with you.
No, Hank.
You can't just bring up
"secret cell phone"
and then drop it.
What does it mean?
I don't know, Sky.
What do you want me to say?
It means Walt has a secret.
Everyone's got one
from somebody,
big or little.
Okay. Oh, wow.
"Everyone." Okay.
Oh, Skyler, come on.
He kept cancer
from you for weeks.
Okay, then, let's assume
there's a second cell phone.
So, what? What,
is he having an affair?
Walt? Please.
What about the marijuana?
He's not on pot anymore.
Says who? Him?
Chemotherapy
and marijuana
go together
like-- like apple pie
and Chevrolet.
Maybe he's addicted
to the pot,
and he owes
his drug dealer
a lot of money.
Marie, you don't get hooked
on pot like that.
How do you know?
You didn't even know
he had a second
cell phone.
Hank, you have to question
this drug dealer person.
He may know something.
Well, I'm telling you,
we're grasping at straws here.
Then grasp.
#
Excuse me. Ma'am?
Hi. I'm, uh--
I'm looking for Jesse.
He around?
No. I'm afraid not.
Why?
I'm sorry.
Uh, Hank Schrader.
Uh, I'm actually hoping
to talk to Jesse
about my brother-in-law,
Walter White.
He, uh, taught your son
chemistry in high school.
Oh, Mr. White.
Yes, I remember him.
That was a long time ago.
Yes, ma'am.
It's my understanding
that he and Jesse,
they've stayed in touch.
Really?
Yeah.
Hmm.
#
Mr. White must've seen
some potential in Jesse.
He really tried
to motivate him.
He was one of
the few teachers
who cared.
Yeah, Walt's that way.
He's a good man.
I'm so sorry to hear
about his illness.
Please pass along
our best wishes.
I certainly will,
as soon as he turns up.
He's missing, actually.
Just kind of walked off or...
Anyway, which is why
I'm going around
trying to think of anyone
who knows him, even slightly.
That's terrible.
Anything we can do
to help?
Well, if you could put me
in touch with your son.
Like I said,
we're kind of desperate
for leads.
Jesse's not answering either
phone number I have for him,
and no one seems to be home
at his house.
And why do you think
my son and Mr. White
would be in touch?
I don't necessarily.
I-- I just, um--
Are you with the police?
No, ma'am. Not at all.
I'm with the Drug
Enforcement Administration.
Oh, my God.
Is my son in trouble?
I have absolutely no reason
to think that, no.
Do I need to get
a lawyer?
You know, you don't seem
very forthright about this-- *์์ง ๋ด๋ฐฑํ (=frank)
coming here and asking
questions about my son and--
Mrs. Pinkman,
I swear to you,
I'm not here
on official capacity. *capacity (๊ณต์์ ์ธ) ์ง์[์ญํ ] (=role)
I do not care what your son
may or may not have done wrong.
I just want to find
my brother-in-law.
His wife is worried sick,
and she's got
a baby on the way.
I'm sorry.
I would like to help you,
but I have not seen my son
in over a month.
I don't expect to see him
anytime soon. *(๋ถ์ ๋ฌธ·์๋ฌธ๋ฌธ์์) ๊ณง
Well, thanks for your time.
Oh, uh...
if you could tell me
one more thing.
Is Jesse still driving
the, uh,
'89 Chevy Monte Carlo,
as far as you know?
If he had spent
half as much time
and money
on his education
as he has on that
ridiculous bouncing car...
Lowrider, huh? *์ฐจ๋(chassis)๋ฅผ ๋ฎ์ถ ์ฐจ
#
Gomie, hey.
Nah, nothing yet.
Hey, listen, do me a solid *์น๊ตฌ์๊ฒ ๋์์ ์์ฒญํ ๋ ์ฐ๋ ๋ง.
and check out a...
'89 Chevy Monte Carlo
registered to a, uh,
one Jesse Pinkman.
Specifically? I want to know
if the car's got LoJack.
It's one of those
jackoff lowriders.
I'm betting it's got
a good shot that there is.
If so, can you go ahead
and get me a fix on it? *(๋ ์ด๋ ๋ฑ์ผ๋ก) …์ ์์น๋ฅผ ํ์ธํ๋ค
Thanks, buddy.
#
Ahh!
Chili powder.
Did I not already tell you
how moronic that was?
Whatever, man.
At least
I tried something.
It almost worked, too.
How's about you
leaving my gun?
Huh?
First you boost it, *ํ์น๋ค
then you leave it
in your house.
My gun.
How was I supposed to know
you were chauffeuring Tuco *chauffeur ๊ธฐ์ฌ๋ฅผ ํ๋ค
to my doorstep?
Well, at least
he wants you alive.
Oh.
Hey, I don't get it.
If Tuco didn't kill Gonzo,
then who did?
I don't know.
I don't know.
Does it really matter?
If he finds out
that Gonzo is dead
and not a police informant,
who does he
automatically blame?
Us.
We need a plan.
Think, think, think.
Let's just
bum-rush him, man. *์์ด ๋ชฐ์๋ด๋ค, ์ซ์๋ด๋ค
You know, you crack him
over the head with something,
and I'll go for his gun.
"Crack him over the head
with something"?
And you got
the C-bomb, man.
All right?
You're as good
as checked out already.
Okay? You should be,
like, all sacrificial,
jumping on a grenade, yo.
Just--
Oh, so my life
is not the priority here,
because I'm going
to be dead soon anyway.
That's your point?
Uh, yeah.
We got to get him
to take this.
Well, he don't much like
the taste of chili P.
That much
has been established.
So unless you
can convince him
to booty bump--
Eat.
We've got a long ride
ahead of us.
Go and sit.
You're looking
a little weak, Heisenberg.
I don't want you to go belly up
before we get there.
Ah.
Take it easy, Tio.
I will feed you.
I eat first.
That's the deal.
What?
I get it, I get it,
I get . Oh!
You greedy old bastard.
I tell you, Heisenberg...
Old people.
You feed them, huh?
You put them in a really
nice crib in the country,
and yet they gotta steal
the food off your plate.
You better eat
every bite of that.
What did you do that for?
God!
Tio.
#
Hey, look. Lookit.
There's nothing left.
What?
What do you want?
No. Don't even tell me
that you're hungry.
Don't go there.
Are you mad-dogging them, Tio? *๋ฏธ·์์ด (์ํํ๋ฏ์ด) ๋
ธ๋ ค๋ณด๋ค
What, you don't like them?
One ding.
That means "yes."
Tio don't like you.
Why don't you
like them, Tio?
You don't trust them?
Why don't you
trust them, Tio?
Tuco, come on.
I mean, he's...
There-- there's clearly
some dementia.
He's not lucid.
Shh!
Did they do something
to you, Tio?
Something that
you don't like?
What did they do to you?
What did you do
to my Tio?
Nothing. Nothing.
Bullshit!
My Tio does not lie!
I don't know. I swear.
I don't know.
No, I-- I--
Maybe I-- I did change
the channel
on his TV, but--
Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's it.
While you were cooking,
you know, he was watching
one of those, um--
those, uh, "telenovels",
you know,
with all those ripe
honeys on it?
He was really into it.
I told you not to change
the channel, man!
You know, dude needs
his eye candy. That's it.
Tio.
Is that it, Tio?
Is that it, Tio?
Huh?
<i>Did they change your mamitas?</i>
What are you telling me, Tio?
Huh?
Are they punking me?
Hey.
No, man.
No.
Come here!
No, Tuco!
No! No! Tuco!
Tuco!
No!
Get--
Tuco, no! Tuco!
Tuco!
Shut up!
No.
Please, no! God!
Please, no! No, God!
I don't want to die!
Tell me what you did, Walter!
Jesus!
I don't want to die!
Tell me what you did!
We tried to poison you.
We tried to poison you,
because you're an insane,
degenerate piece of filth,
and you deserve to die.
Who's the bitch now?
Let him bleed.
#
The keys!
Tuco.
Oh, my God.
The cousins?
What the hell's going on?
Jesse Pinkman.
You're a hard man
to find.
Aw, shit.
Easy.
Oh, my God.
Oh, god.
Hank.
Huh?
Hank.
What?
Oh, my God.
What?
Oh, my God.
Stay-- What--
What are you doing?