The polished marbled floor of the main atrium offered no shelter to the hurried man. He was quick stepping across the opening towards the stairs. The whole way his head was turning, ever watching his surroundings, ever aware. The dark clothes striking a contrast with the clean whiteness of the floor.

He trotted in up the stairs a few floors. Up here it was darker and quieter. The carpet absorbing the foot falls. The only light came from the basic emergency indicators. A soft green above the stair well, mixed in with reds along the ceiling. He reached out to a small table at the side of the corridor. Upon it rested a solitary plastic key card.

*beep* *clunk* He opened the room door opposite the table, and gave one last glance around the corridor before heading in, closing the door behind. Having double checked that the curtains were closed he flicked the lights on. The harsh LED bulbs stretching out into every corner of the space.

"Ok, let's get to work"

The crisp air sat softly on the mountain side. The chill early sky was clear blue. Sunshine just about raining down uninterrupted on the road surface. No wind had yet stirred itself up, combing for a lovely morning.

Scott awoke early and unzipped his tent door. Dew ran down the outside forming small pools around the pegs. He'd only been asleep for a couple of hours, having been actively shooting footage of the riots. Frankly another few hours would have been more than welcomed. But Scott had to pack up and start heading down the climb to meet up with the production crew. They were going to meet him part way up in an hour of so, giving them time to get back to Aix-en-Provence and set up for a full days reporting.

Admittedly it didn't take long to pack up the few things Scott had with him on the mountain. The tent was the most troublesome, because it was wet it would not fit back into it's back, forcing Scott to improvise. He was also not the only one awake. Several policeman were still dotted around the place, as were various fans who decided to make the most of the night.

As Scott ambled down the road he came across some of the races hardcore workforce. Numbers of teens employed for 3 weeks to set up the kilometers of barriers and sponsor boards every morning. Already groups of them were hard at it, hammering the metal fencing into place, and attaching Vittel canvas ad's to the front of them. It was going to be a long day for them as well. Scott also knew that this scene was being repeated in town centers across the area, and up at the summit of the climb. Hundreds of man hours just for one days action.

Scott continued on into the woods. It was a different scene down here. The damage from the previous night was yet to be cleared away. Burned out cars were the most striking of the images left there, along with the scorched and blackened earth under the treeline. The dark side of the Tour was plain to see, but it would be well hidden before the TV cameras arrived later on. Scott took one last opportunity to do some filming of the scene, before meeting up with the car and heading away down South.

So hardly anyone got a good nights sleep. Chris was up pretty early considering the actions of the dark. He was not alone. Most of the campers were up, or getting up. The sun was fully up, bathing the side of the climb in warmth and piercing sunshine. The actions of the previous night were at the forefront of mind and conversation.

However the expected animosity was absent. The guilty parties, for the most part, had been taken away, or cordoned off, by the police. The hardcore fans now had only one thought in mind, repair. The majority of people who were on the mountain were either locals or other French people. This weekend was special for so many reasons and they were there to celebrate it. The actions of a few inebriated fools were not going to get in the way of that. So it was with gusto that the French took to the task at hand, cleaning.

There was a lot of waste in the form of bottles, broken glass and wasted plastic. Endless rolls of black bags were produced and filled. The blackened woods were tended too. The dead, burnt wood cleared away, allowing any remaining potential growth the room and ability to thrive in the remaining summer sun. It was an incredible sight, totally at odds with the violence and actions of the nighttime.

Chris could only wander around offering a basic hand here and there. His eye was swollen and blackened having been knocked around. He was tired and angry, but felt obligated to off some assistance. It was going to be an incredibly long and emotional day, and he could not spend it in a war zone. So cleaning it was...