The Bud Family

In the grand tradition of pulp adventure tales, the story of Bud Bud and Rose “RoseBud” Bud unfolds as a larger-than-life chronicle of treasure hunts, Hollywood dreams, barroom brawls, and a turn toward vigilante fervor. This American power couple’s journey spans decades – from a fateful 1982 expedition in search of Montezuma’s gold to their present-day crusade for vengeance and “virtue” – stopping just short of the tumultuous events of early 2026. Along the way, they cross paths with a charismatic explorer, a hard-drinking priest, and a controversial nun, entangling destiny and danger in true pulp-fashion. Below, we delve into their backstory in vivid detail, followed by a summary table of the key characters, roles, and relationships.

From Gilded Lives to the Golden Legend (Pre-1982)

Bud Bud hails from money – old American money. Whispers in high society suggest he’s a distant scion of the “Kings of Beer,” perhaps an illegitimate offshoot of the Busch family behind Budweiser. Bud neither confirms nor denies these rumors, preferring the mystique of “Bud Bud” as both his first and last name. What’s certain is that he inherited a substantial fortune, fueling a lavish lifestyle and an ego to match. By the late 1970s, Bud had established himself as a brash, self-assured figure with a penchant for risk-taking and an eye for glamorous company.

Enter Rose Bud, better known by her celebrity-styled moniker “RoseBud.” A decade younger than Bud, Rose was a stunning socialite who turned heads in elite circles from New York to Los Angeles. Marrying Bud vaulted her from the merely well-to-do into the stratosphere of true wealth. RoseBud relished the role of trophy wife – always immaculately dressed, dripping with diamonds, and flashing a photogenic smile – but she also nurtured aspirations of her own. She desperately wanted to become a Hollywood starlet. In whispers to friends, she confided that “I’m already a star – I just haven’t found my stage yet.” This hunger for fame would become a driving motive in the couple’s adventure to come.

By 1982, Bud and RoseBud were a power couple with means and motive seeking a grand adventure. They found it in the legend of Montezuma’s gold – a fabled Aztec treasure said to contain untold riches of gold and precious artifacts hidden away in Mexico centuries ago. The Lost Treasure of Montezuma had long captivated treasure hunters and romantics; stories told of Aztec Emperor Montezuma II’s servants hastily concealing the empire’s wealth from invading Spanish conquistadors, leaving a vast hoard buried somewhere in the wilds of Mexico or the American Southwest. The allure of this legendary treasure – “untold riches… buried deep within Mexico’s mountains” – proved irresistible to Bud’s thrill-seeking instincts.

Importantly, 1981 had seen the release of Raiders of the Lost Ark, the first Indiana Jones film, which rocketed to the top of the box office and reignited popular fascination with swashbuckling archaeologist-adventurers. This pop-culture phenomenon did not go unnoticed by Bud and RoseBud. The film’s success (and its dashing hero Indiana Jones) spurred imitators and inspired real-world adventurers. Bud began to fancy himself a potential real-life Indiana Jones – or at least the patron of one. RoseBud, meanwhile, saw a chance to ride a Hollywood-style adventure to genuine Hollywood stardom. All they needed was a suitably fearless adventurer to lead the way.

The 1982 Montezuma’s Gold Expedition: Desert Dreams and Schemes

In the spring of 1982, Bud and RoseBud joined forces with Rowan Mallon, a charming and roguish explorer who would change their lives. Rowan Mallon was exactly the kind of man the Buds’ story needed: a globe-trotting fortune hunter with windswept good looks, expensive tastes, and a devil-may-care smile. He had a reputation for weaving tantalizing tales of adventure – the kind of “playboy lifestyle” tales that combined high adventure with high living. Some said Rowan had champagne in his canteen and a different girl in every port. Despite (or because of) this, Bud and RoseBud were enthralled by him when they met.

They crossed paths with Rowan through a mutual acquaintance at a fundraising gala in New York. Rowan regaled the Buds with stories of his past exploits in exotic locales – snake-infested temples in Asia, uncharted islands in the Pacific – but he spoke with particular passion about Montezuma’s treasure. He claimed he had leads on a hidden clue deep in the Mexican desert, something other treasure hunters had missed. According to Rowan, a set of mysterious symbols recently spotted in a cave hinted at a map to Montezuma’s lost hoard. (Indeed, around that time there were reports that a hiker had found intricate carvings in an unnamed cave, sparking new speculation that Montezuma’s treasure was close at hand.) Rowan insisted these carvings were the key – and that he knew how to interpret them.

For Bud, this was the pitch of a lifetime. Here was a chance to finance an honest-to-goodness treasure expedition – and perhaps turn it into the next big Hollywood blockbuster. The ongoing Indiana Jones craze gave Bud visions of blockbuster glory. With dollar signs in his eyes, Bud struck a deal with Rowan Mallon: he would bankroll Rowan’s expedition to locate Montezuma’s gold. In return, Bud demanded exclusive rights to Rowan’s life story and expedition rights – the raw material for a series of adventure films Bud planned to produce. Crucially, Bud had one non-negotiable condition: RoseBud must star as the leading lady in any film adaptation. Bud framed it magnanimously – “My Rose is already a star; the world just needs to see it” – but everyone understood his intentions. This was to be RoseBud’s big break. Rowan, eager for funding, readily agreed, perhaps underestimating how serious Bud was about that clause.

Thus the Montezuma’s Gold Expedition of 1982 was born. The team included Rowan Mallon as expedition leader, Bud as financier (and self-appointed “operations chief” who mostly stayed at base camp with the sat-phone and scotch), and RoseBud as an observer (insisting she was doing “character research” for her future film role). They also hired local guides and a professor of archaeology from Mexico City to lend credibility. Some locals were skeptical – the Montezuma legend had defeated many before – but Rowan’s confidence (and Bud’s money) forged ahead.

The expedition ventured into the Sonoran Desert in northern Mexico, following Rowan’s leads. They scoured arid canyons and half-excavated ruins. According to Rowan’s theory, Montezuma’s followers might have transported some treasure northward and hidden it in labyrinthine caves. Days turned into weeks under the punishing sun. Tensions grew as progress proved slow. At one point, RoseBud collapsed from heat exhaustion and had to be airlifted to a hospital in Hermosillo – a sobering moment that briefly made Bud question the enterprise. But RoseBud, ever the dramatic heroine, insisted on returning once recovered: “We haven’t found my climax yet,” she quipped, meaning both the treasure and her moment of glory.

There were a few heart-pounding episodes that felt ripped from a movie script. In one canyon, the team encountered booby traps – pits lined with sharpened sticks – suggesting that someone in antiquity really had tried to guard something. One of Rowan’s hired diggers was injured in such a trap, lending credence to Rowan’s hunch that they were close to something important. The climax of the 1982 search came when Rowan led Bud into a hidden grotto emblazoned with unfamiliar glyphs. Rowan excitedly proclaimed these symbols to be an ancient Aztec code. For hours he and the professor tried to decipher them by flashlight. Bud was sure they’d finally cornered Montezuma’s secret. But fate dealt a cruel hand: an earthquake tremor (common in that region) shook the ground, and the grotto partially collapsed. Bud and Rowan barely escaped as tons of rock sealed off whatever lay beyond. They left empty-handed – no treasure, just tantalizing clues entombed once more.

In the aftermath, Bud consoled himself that at least they had great material for the planned movie. If they couldn’t retrieve the gold, they would make their fortune by selling the story of the daring quest. Rowan Mallon was already somewhat famous in adventurer circles, and with Bud’s promotional savvy, they could spin the expedition into a media narrative. Indeed, Bud leaked a few details to a travel magazine about “eerie Aztec symbols” and “narrowly cheating death” on the expedition, hoping to build hype.

Hollywood Promises and Bitter Betrayals (Mid-1980s)

Back in the USA after the expedition, Bud set in motion his Hollywood scheme. He and Rowan Mallon co-founded a small production company (grandiosely named Golden Empire Productions) in late 1982 with the goal of producing a series of action-adventure films loosely based on Rowan’s life and the Montezuma expedition. Bud poured a sizable chunk of his fortune into development: hiring a screenwriter to draft a script, courting directors, and – true to his word – grooming RoseBud to be the leading lady. RoseBud took acting classes, posed for publicity stills in rugged desert outfits, and even did screen tests performing derring-do scenes (swinging on a rope “vines,” outrunning a giant foam boulder) to prove she could be an action heroine. Bud had never seen her so determined. This was going to be her star-making vehicle.

For a brief moment, it looked like their cinematic dreams would come true. By mid-1983, Bud managed to interest a minor Hollywood studio in the concept; the success of Raiders of the Lost Ark had studios scrambling for similar treasure-hunt stories, so a pitch about “Montezuma’s Gold” starring a real adventurer and his beautiful wife had a certain appeal. RoseBud graced the society pages with hints of her upcoming “major film debut,” and Rowan basked in the attention too, living the Hollywood high life on Bud’s dime while talks progressed.

But, much like the treasure hunt, the movie deal turned out to be a mirage. Problems quickly piled up:

• Rowan Mallon proved unreliable. He enjoyed the party scene of Hollywood far too much – late-night soirees at the Playboy Mansion, being spotted with starlets on Sunset Boulevard – and began neglecting script development and investor meetings. His playboy reputation, initially an asset, became a liability as rumors swirled that Rowan was romancing a studio executive’s wife and blowing through money as fast as Bud supplied it. Bud started to see Rowan less as a Harrison Ford leading man and more as a duplicitous scoundrel who was using Bud’s fortune to fund his own pleasure.

• RoseBud, despite her beauty, lacked acting experience. The screen tests that Bud thought were impressive didn’t convince the seasoned Hollywood producers. Off the record, one producer told Bud, “She might look the part, but she can’t act her way out of a paper bag.” This got back to RoseBud, humiliating her. She in turn blamed Bud for “not securing a better script and director to make me shine.” Tensions grew within the marriage over the stalled career promise.

• Financing the film series required more money than Bud anticipated. Bud’s own investment only went so far; they needed outside backers. When Rowan’s unsavory antics scared off potential investors, the budget fell apart. By early 1984, the film project was effectively dead – no studio would green-light it, and Golden Empire Productions was hemorrhaging cash.

The collapse of their Hollywood venture was a bitter pill for the Bud family. Bud Bud felt duped and betrayed. He had sunk a fortune into the expedition and the film plans, with nothing to show for it but some bruised egos and a vault of unpaid invoices. In private rants, Bud accused Rowan Mallon of swindling him – “That two-bit Indiana Jones stole my money and my wife’s spotlight!” It’s true that Rowan walked away relatively unscathed; he had gained fame from the initial expedition publicity and simply moved on to his next adventure (and next wealthy patron, perhaps), leaving the Buds to clean up the mess. RoseBud’s resentment was even more personal. She had dared to dream of stardom, only to see it snatched away. In her view, Rowan’s failure to deliver on his promise – and his general womanizing behavior – was a direct affront. (There were even whispers in gossip circles that RoseBud had had a brief fling with Rowan Mallon during the heady days of pre-production, hoping to “secure her role” in more ways than one. If true, Rowan’s quick exit from their lives was not just a professional insult but a romantic snub, which fueled RoseBud’s scorn.)

By the mid-1980s, Bud and RoseBud were left licking their wounds. Financially, Bud was still wealthy, but the lost investment stung – both his wallet and his pride. Socially, the couple became something of a scandalous joke in their elite circle: the fools who chased Montezuma’s myth and a Hollywood fantasy. One society columnist sniped that “the Buds went looking for gold and glory, but all they found was fool’s gold.” Bud and RoseBud retreated from the spotlight for a while, nursing their grievances and plotting a comeback – or payback. Vengeance began to brew quietly in their hearts during these years, especially against Rowan Mallon whom they saw as the architect of their misfortune.

It’s during this period that the Buds’ worldview started to shift in a darker direction. Disillusioned with the “sinful” Hollywood crowd and high society that had laughed at them, Bud in particular sought solace in more ideological pursuits. He began attending gatherings of like-minded wealthy conservatives who lamented the changing social landscape of America in the late ’80s. Traditional values, he argued, were being undermined by the kind of decadence personified by men like Rowan Mallon – libertines who faced no consequences for their actions. RoseBud, for her part, publicly remained the picture of a demure high-society wife, but privately she fumed at having been “used and discarded” by the entertainment machine. Their disillusionment was laying the foundation for a new chapter of their lives, one driven as much by moral outrage (whether genuine or hypocritical) as by personal vendetta.

Brawl in Bariloche: The Patagonian Incident (1990s)

One chapter in the Bud family saga that would later become infamous was the bar brawl in Patagonia. The exact year is hazy – some say 1989, others 1992 – but it occurred several years after the Montezuma debacle, once the Buds had resumed traveling in an attempt to reclaim some excitement in their lives. They journeyed to Patagonia (the wild southern tip of South America, spanning Argentina and Chile), drawn by its rugged beauty and perhaps by whispers of new investment opportunities (Bud was toying with funding a ski resort venture there).

One frosty evening, in the lakeside town of Bariloche, Argentina, Bud and RoseBud stepped into a rustic tavern – the kind of wood-paneled, dimly lit watering hole that attracts mountaineers, expats, and the occasional drifter. Father Ignatius O’Gold was already there, well into his cups. Father O’Gold was an Irish priest in his late middle age, temporarily in Patagonia on some church assignment (perhaps attached to a local mission or on a personal pilgrimage). Despite his clerical collar, he had a known weakness for whiskey. Locals that night would later recall that “El padre Irlandés estaba muy borracho” – the Irish father was very drunk.

How exactly the confrontation started is contested, but by all accounts Father O’Gold took an immediate disliking to the glamorous American couple as soon as they walked into the bar. Some say it was because RoseBud’s entrance drew every eye – including those of the married men present – and the priest muttered something about “Jezebel” under his breath. Others believe that Father O’Gold, who fancied himself a moral crusader when drunk, actually recognized the Buds and their notorious history (the Montezuma expedition had been written about in adventure magazines). According to this version, the inebriated priest approached their table uninvited and slurred, “Gold, ye want is it? People like you’ll burn for your greed and lust.” RoseBud, taken aback, reportedly snapped, “Excuse me?!” – to which O’Gold sneered something crudely insulting about her character (witnesses claimed he called her “a harlot in pearls” right to her face).

Bud Bud, never one to back down, stood up to confront the disheveled clergyman. Bud was a tall man, but Father Ignatius O’Gold, despite his age, had a burly build and the element of reckless drunken strength. The two men exchanged heated words. RoseBud tried to pull her husband away, not wanting a scene, but the priest suddenly threw a punch – a wild swing that connected squarely with Bud’s jaw. Bud hit the floor, dazed and bleeding from a split lip. A collective gasp went up in the bar; no one expected the old priest to lash out physically.

Chaos ensued. RoseBud screamed. Bud, humiliated, scrambled up and lunged at O’Gold, toppling a table. Two of the tavern’s patrons jumped in to restrain Bud (who was seeing red) while others held back the stumbling priest. For a moment it threatened to become a full-on saloon melee. But Father O’Gold, perhaps realizing what he’d done, wrenched free and bolted out of the tavern door before matters escalated further. He disappeared into the cold Patagonian night, fleeing in a battered pickup truck that roared off down the dirt road outside.

Shaken and enraged, Bud and RoseBud were left in the wreckage of the barfight’s aftermath – spilled drinks, a broken chair, and lots of apologies from the barkeep. Bud’s pride was wounded far worse than his lip. Here he was, a wealthy American, punched by a drunken priest in front of a bar full of strangers. RoseBud was deeply offended by the epithets hurled at her. The Buds wanted justice (and vengeance) immediately. Bud urged the local authorities to catch and arrest Father O’Gold for assault.

However, Father Ignatius O’Gold proved elusive. It turned out he had friends in high places. The Church in Patagonia closed ranks to protect their wayward clergyman. According to local gossip, Sister Mary Margarita – yes, the very same nun who would later figure into Rowan Mallon’s story – was instrumental in spiriting Father O’Gold out of harm’s way.

Who is Sister Mary Margarita? At the time of the bar brawl, she was serving at a Catholic mission in the region. Sister Mary Margarita was (and remains) a peculiar figure: a nun with a worldly streak and a sharp tongue. Originally from Ireland (as her playful name suggests), she had spent years in South America doing charitable work, but she was also no stranger to controversy. Rumors swirled that before taking her vows, she had led quite a wild life – some whispered she had been a lounge singer or that she enjoyed the occasional tequila even as a nun, earning her the nickname “Margarita.” Despite (or because of) her unconventional ways, she held significant sway in the Church hierarchy and local community.

When Sister Mary Margarita learned of the incident, she reportedly helped hide Father O’Gold at a remote monastery in the Andean foothills until arrangements could be made to send him back to Ireland. By the time the police came looking, the priest had vanished. The official word from the Church was that Father Ignatius had been “reassigned due to health concerns.” No charges were ever filed.

This outcome infuriated Bud. He saw it as a blatant cover-up – a conspiracy between a debauched priest and a meddling nun. RoseBud, nursing her own grudge, coined a private nickname for Sister Mary Margarita: “Sister Mary Merciless.” In public, of course, the Buds couldn’t do much. Complaining loudly about a Catholic nun’s interference risked a backlash, especially as foreigners in a devout region. So they bit their tongues and left Patagonia with unfinished business. But their relationship with Sister Mary Margarita from that day forward was fraught and complicated.

On one hand, Sister Mary Margarita attempted to mend fences – she wrote a letter to Bud and RoseBud some months later, apologizing for Father O’Gold’s behavior (in as much as a letter from a convent can apologize) and urging the Buds to find forgiveness. The letter, laced with scriptural references, came off to Bud as condescending preaching. RoseBud was said to have crumpled it up after reading the first paragraph. They did not respond.

On the other hand, interestingly, Sister Mary Margarita would pop up again in the Buds’ lives in later years. Through a strange twist, she had known Rowan Mallon (the world of adventurers and missionaries sometimes overlaps). Rowan’s globe-trotting had once brought him to Sister Margarita’s mission, and he had charmed the good sister with donations and tales of archaeological discoveries. That connection meant that when Rowan Mallon’s name resurfaced in the Buds’ sphere (for example, when Rowan published a memoir or when news of Rowan’s later exploits reached them), Sister Mary Margarita occasionally reached out to the Buds urging reconciliation. She had a habit of sending RoseBud religious pamphlets about letting go of anger, which only annoyed RoseBud further.

Thus, the Buds’ relationship with Sister Mary Margarita became a peculiar mix of resentment and unwilling intertwinement. Sister Margarita believed she was trying to save their souls (from vengeance, from materialism, etc.), while Bud and RoseBud increasingly saw her as part of a moralistic cabal that thwarted them – first protecting that “barroom brute” Father O’Gold, and later possibly siding with Rowan Mallon’s interests as well. Indeed, Bud grew convinced that Sister Mary Margarita was “in on” some of Rowan’s secrets – perhaps she knew the truth about what happened to any treasure, or had influence over Rowan’s estate. This paranoia further complicated their feelings toward her. They couldn’t outright move against a nun without looking like villains (optics they carefully manage), but they certainly distrusted and despised her behind closed doors.

Rise of the Vigilantes: MAGA, Guns, and an Oath of Vengeance (2000s–2025)

As the years progressed into the 2000s and 2010s, Bud and RoseBud Bud reinvented themselves yet again. They withdrew somewhat from cosmopolitan high society and relocated to a ranch estate in Texas. Here, surrounded by oilmen and rancher elites, Bud felt more at home. He invested in firearms companies and land, turning into a bona fide gun enthusiast and collector. RoseBud channeled her unfulfilled performing energy into social media, cultivating an image as a patriot philanthropist – hosting charity galas for veterans, posing with the American flag and Bible. The couple started espousing increasingly right-wing, fundamentalist views. They became vocal supporters of a movement they called “Make America Godly Again (MAGA)”, a twist on the political slogan “Make America Great Again” imbued with religious fervor. By the mid-2010s, the Buds had built a following in certain circles; they donated generously to churches and politicians who aligned with their moralizing crusade.

(Notably, the phrase “Make America Godly Again” gained some traction among ultra-conservative Christian groups during this period. The Buds loved the motto – it appealed to Bud’s sense of restoring old values and RoseBud’s penchant for dramatic statements. To them, “Godly Again” meant purging the decadence and “evil” they saw in modern society. And in their minds, one of the greatest symbols of that evil remained Rowan Mallon – the globetrotting playboy who led them astray.)

Over time, their rhetoric sharpened. Bud began appearing on fringe talk shows, railing about how “the world’s moral compass has been lost” and hinting at conspiracies of elites with depraved lifestyles (one could hear the subtext of his experiences with Rowan and Hollywood in these rants). RoseBud would sit by his side, nodding piously, occasionally interjecting with a Biblical quote or a pointed “amen.” To their followers, they painted themselves as righteous warriors who had seen the sinful temptations of the world and turned away to fight against them.

Yet behind this sanctimonious public persona lurked the same old thirst for payback. Bud never forgot the money he sunk into Rowan Mallon’s ventures, and RoseBud never forgot the humiliation and heartbreak. If anything, their new ideology gave them a justification to frame their personal vendetta in grand terms. They convinced themselves (or at least publicly stated) that Rowan Mallon represented a broader evil: the “Playboy Adventurer” lifestyle that seduces good people into folly and sin. In Bud’s words, “Men like Mallon – they jet off to seduce, steal, and defile, leaving others in ruin. That’s the Devil’s work.” RoseBud would add with a thin smile, “And the Devil should get his due.”

By the 2020s, as Rowan Mallon aged into his 60s and 70s, he had largely faded from the headlines, but he was far from forgotten by the Buds. They kept tabs on him from afar. They knew, for instance, that Rowan had never struck it rich with Montezuma’s treasure (no rival claims emerged, and no film ever got made by someone else). They also knew Rowan remained something of a bon vivant – there were occasional magazine profiles of him sipping rum on a Belize beach or attending charity balls in London. “He’s still living well, off whose money?” RoseBud would sneer, implying that Rowan must have found other naive patrons.

Then came news in late 2025 that truly ignited the Buds’ fury: Rowan Mallon had died (under circumstances that weren’t entirely clear – some said peacefully in his sleep, others whispered of a scandal). And – the kicker – Rowan had apparently left behind a substantial will and estate, with rumors of hidden assets perhaps related to his adventures. A grand gathering was announced for the reading of Rowan Mallon’s will, scheduled for early February 2026, at a manor in Ireland. This news was like a thunderbolt for Bud and RoseBud. After all these years, Rowan’s affairs would be laid bare – possibly including the fate of Bud’s long-lost investment if Rowan had ever squirreled away proceeds from selling their expedition story or artifacts.

Publicly, the Buds expressed mild sadness at the passing of “our old friend Rowan,” even as they reminded anyone who’d listen of how much they had done for him (painting themselves as benefactors who were never repaid). Privately, they saw Rowan’s will as their last chance to claim what was “theirs.” If Rowan’s estate had any value, Bud felt he deserved a cut – if not legally, then morally. RoseBud fixated on the idea that Rowan might have kept some journals or rights that could still be turned into the films she never got to star in. The flame of their old dream flickered once more, intermingled with righteous anger.

Social media rumors around this time illustrate just how unhinged the Buds’ quest had become. On fringe internet forums and encrypted chat groups, anonymous posts appeared alleging that Bud Bud was seeking to hire an assassin. These posts claimed leaked documents and hacked emails showed Bud was in contact with mercenaries, discussing “removing obstacles” to get what he’s owed. One sensational tweet read: “Leaked: #RoseBud husband plotting violence ahead of #RowanMallon will reading. Bud Bud hiring hitman? #MAGA extremists on treasure trail.” Of course, such rumors were unverified, but they spread fast in certain circles.

Whether or not the Buds truly considered murder, one thing was clear: they would not stop until they reclaimed their investment or exacted revenge. They had, by 2025, armed themselves literally and figuratively for a fight. Bud’s ranch resembled a fortress, and he often posed with his vintage rifles in Christmas cards. RoseBud had begun styling herself in public like a vengeful angel, often wearing stark white outfits paired with a gleaming handgun at her hip when addressing their followers at “Make America Godly Again” rallies. It was a striking, disconcerting image: the former starlet hopeful now effectively a pistol-packing preacher of retribution.

It’s important to note the paradox in their transformation: The Buds preached godliness and morality, yet harbored violent intent. They spoke of family values, yet their own marriage was a cocktail of spite and scheming. This hypocrisy did not go unnoticed; Sister Mary Margarita, for one, publicly prayed for “those who have lost sight of forgiveness in pursuit of gold and glory”, a barbed reference that anyone acquainted with the Buds could decipher. The Buds responded by mocking “the whiff of gin on a hypocrite nun’s breath” at one rally – a remark clearly aimed at Sister Margarita. The feud between them and the Sister thus continued by proxy, adding a almost theological dimension to the impending showdown.

As January 2026 came to an end, Bud and RoseBud stood on the cusp of what they viewed as the final act of their long, pulp-worthy saga. They had spent decades chasing treasure, fame, and vengeance. Now much older – greying but unbowed – they felt a reckoning was at hand. In their minds, all the threads converged on the upcoming event surrounding Rowan Mallon’s legacy. Their enemies list was long: the ghost of Rowan Mallon, anyone who dared inherit what he left behind, the meddling Sister Mary Margarita who might be present, and generally anyone who would block their path to justice (as they defined it).

With guns loaded (literally) and conviction burning, the Buds made their way to Ireland in late January 2026, ostensibly to pay respects at the will reading. What they truly intended, only they knew – but those dark web murmurs suggested nothing was off the table. The stage was set for a dramatic finale, the culmination of all the bad blood and lethal ambition that had simmered for over forty years.