Today, the party in hell that started when Jesus died on the cross continued. I imagine it to be like a fraternity party on steroids, with debauchery everywhere.
Satan laughed and the demons rejoiced. Because what they wanted had been accomplished, the death of God. As Nietzsche would write nearly 1800 years later, "God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him."
They had won.
On earth, the body of Judas had been discovered, broken, with his bowels spilling out.
The rest of the disciples were in hiding, behind locked doors, afraid that they would be next. Peter drowned in shame, hearing the words in his head, "I don't know the man!" and starting every time he heard a rooster crow. Perhaps he heard that rooster crow in his nightmares.
Mary? Where was Mary? Overcome with grief and pain and heartbroken, as I would be if it were my son.
Death had come and killed God, and Satan was in the middle of throwing a party.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.