The stairs of the Capitol, midnight. A huge assembly, dressed in tribal ritual costumes, files into the building. A small demon takes the podium.
Demon: "It is the inevitable march of history that leads to this. Bring him before us."
Moptop, dressed in rags, looks on, exchanging nervous glances at his compatriots.
Demon: "Who is this man that he might defy us?"
The Tribal-Fusion Christ is pulled from the crowd. Moptop recognizes it is a play, and he must act the role of Judas. However, he cannot condone it, and runs forward to fight the centurions. The script is compromised. A blade is drawn, blood is shed. Judas tumbles down the colossal stairway. Screams. A bittersweet release from life. He failed, but died with a pure heart?
The illusion continues for 600 years, until the horrifying reality dawns upon Judas, who wakes up in a cheap motel room with the Devil. He puts on a robe and slippers and weeps.
"What have I done?"
