He watched him walk away, like he had so many times before. "I'm as much a part of this as he is," Trautman thought to himself, "I've got to catch up with him, can't let him go." Not right away though, no Colonel Samuel Trautman had been through this before with John Rambo, his former Staff Sergeant in the Special Forces.
"That maniac!" Murdock came barreling towards Trautman shouting. "He could have killed someone! Could've killed—"
"—you," Trautman finishes for him. "Always concerned with others Marshall, that's what I admire about you." Trautman spoke stone-faced.
"Fuck you, you smart ass, the 'best you've ever seen' is a damn lunatic and I'll see to it he goes back to jail after this. He violated orders and attacked a government official! You hear me you nutjob!" Murdock shouted frantically at Rambo, "I'm the director of Special Ops dammit! I own you! Your ass is going back to jail permanently!" Murdock shook as he lit a cigar. You could tell he needed it badly. Rambo may or may not have heard him. The two watched his back and saw John getting smaller and smaller. He never changed from his due north positioning once, unflinchingly heading to Bangkok.
"Hell of a sense of humor you spineless opportunist. That man walking away is a hero. He just saved several souls from a hell you'd have left them to and we will see to it you find all of the others!" Trautman stared at him in a commanding pose. Murdock's jaw dropped, his cigar fell to the ground. He was now completely aware of the psychic connection between the two.
Rambo kept walking due north. His smoldering anger was fueling his every step. Man on a mission, but his mission was accomplished.