Eliminate the Impossible (Tag: Jackson)

Kristoff couldn't sleep. Well, he could never sleep. He was an insomniac, probably due to the fact that his brain was practically running on high energy all the time, but he could sleep even less tonight because he had his mind fixated on something. And once his mind was stuck on something, there was no way it was going to get off his mind until he solved it. The last time he checked the time it was 2 in the morning. An idea flashed in his mind and he got up immediately. He wasn't even in his dorm, he never seemed to be in it, and instead just sat inside the lab in his little cubicle in IRTS. Making his way to the second floor, he double checked he was looking at the right door and knocked on the door. He wasn't the biggest fan of the guy, but he needed him and he just knew he had to be awake even at this time. If he wasn't... well he was now.

Jackson rolled over at the sound of a knock. Was that really a knock? Was it really? He looked over at his roommate, sleeping peacefully - as usual. As if it weren't hard enough for him to sleep with his paranoid tendencies, he's got random people knocking on his door. What the hell was that about? Swiping up his glasses, Jackson got out of bed, dragging his feet to the door. There better be someone out there anyway. He opened the door, slipping his glasses on and squinting at the bright light of the hallway. "Oaf? What the hell do you want? It's like..." Jackson yawned. "Late." He hadn't checked the time.

Kristoff wrinkled his nose at being called an oaf. "What--ok, never mind that. Wake up, Dr. Jekyll, I've got a case for you." He said as he marched straight into the room, past the much smaller guy. He flipped the light switch on immediately, probably blinding the poor guy, and slapped a folder onto his desk where the hacker's laptop was. "And it's only.." he glanced down at the time on his phone. "3:40. It's practically the afternoon still."

"Did you just call me Dr.?" Jackson asked, still to surprised as he walked into his room. Not that the reference was anything shy of lame, but th fact he actually said it meant that he wanted something. Aside from coming here. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut as Kristoff turned the lights on, "What the fuck?!" He turned the lights back off, and held the door open to let the light in from the hallway, "Afternoo-? It's the earliest part of morning, you duntz!" But he sounded like he really meant that. He wondered if he was always used to insomnia. "What is that?" He points to the folder he slapped down. "And what has it got to do with me?"

"It's the afternoon for me," he said nonchalantly as he dug through the folder. He finally the found paper, luckily before the light was switch off. He gave the slip of paper to Jackson. "I used to moonlight detective work from the police a few years back.. got a hold of the account info on their police database but they made some changes lately and it's impossible to get in. For me, at least. I figured you might be able to hack it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to be pretty good at what he did. Kristoff crossed his arms and stopped talking for a few seconds. He looked to Jackson and had a more apologetic tone. "And I couldn't wait until morning. It's... important."

Jackson glared at Kristoff before snatching the paper from him. Jackson rolled his eyes at the mention of his police work. "I don't fuck with police. I wouldn't know." He muttered, looking at the paper. Sever information? He crumpled up the paper. He didn't need that. "Whoa, hold up." Jackson held a hand up, sticking his foot out to stop the door from closing. "Why would I hack it? For you. At 3:40 in the morning. What is this for? Why is it important?" Jackson didn't typically ask so many questions, but when it came to hacking something that could probably get him thrown out.

Kristoff was getting kind of caught in the moment and was determined to not leave this room until he was on that database. "Look, if you get caught.. just blame it on me, say I held you hostage or something. I don't care," he didn't particularly want to get kicked out but this was probably his only chance at ever finding out. When he kept talking, the blond man dug into his pocket and reached for his wallet and pulled out all the cash that was in there. "And I'll give you... 100 bucks." He said after counting it quickly, holding the cash out to Jackson. He didn't care much for money,  especially not when his parents were disgustingly sparing with it. "I'm not a murderer or anything. It's just personal."

Jackson gave Kristoff a suspicious look. "I'm not the kind of guy who is easily taken hostage." Jackson frowned, examining him carefully before tossing the balled up paper over his shoulder and walking to Kristoff. The door closed and Jackson snatched the money from his hand. "I don't give a shit about you being a murderer or not." He grumbled, lifting his laptop screen and turning it on. He closed the door to the bedroom and turned the light on again. "Why is it personal?" He added, sitting down in front of the laptop. "What am I even looking for?" He yawned, opening the police department's website and redirecting himself to a web shell. Looking to Kristoff for an answer. "I'm not inserting the algorithm until you tell me why."

He quirked an eyebrow when he said he wasn't someone who could be easily taken hostage but said nothing of it. After all was said and done, Kristoff sighed deeply. "Alright. It's just.. it's gonna sound crazy," he started off. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling timid all of a sudden. "But there's something kind of weird about that Hamada kid in our division." Just saying the last name felt extremely weird. It was something he hadn't said since he was 12. But it was definitely something he never stopped thinking about. "Some... old memories, you could say, came back. It's been in the back of my mind ever since that day in the electronics store and every other day in training since." Kristoff was pretty sure it was near impossible for there to be any connection, but his last name had set him off. "Anyway that's all I'm going to say for now. It's a long story and if it doesn't check out then I'll just seem crazy," he dismissed. "Just look the kid up... please." He grumbled a little cautiously.

Jackson scrutinized him carefully. He definitely wants him to do this, otherwise he'll probably lose his shit. Jackson couldn't say for sure if he through that there was something odd going on with him. Memories? Like he knew him before...before what? He could just hack into Kristoff's profile database later. "Only pussies say please. Men demand. But whatever. Trust ain't a survival instinct." he turned to his screen again, inserting the algorithm and allowing him access to the files placed solely on the computers. "What was his last name again? Hamada-?" He yawned, "Oh, look, there he is." He tapped the screen of his laptop, selecting the kid's records and allowing them both to read what was there.

Kristoff rolled his eyes at the guy. He had been enough of an asshole just barging in on him in the middle of the night, now the guy wanted him to keep being one? He didn't understand him but Kristoff didn't really care at this point. He took a few steps over to the computer and leaned in. "That's it?" He asked, a little disappointed at how fast it took. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a brief moment before beginning to scan the page. "Holy shit." He hadn't seen much of anything yet, but a few things like his place of birth were freaking him out. It could've been a coincidence, sure, but maybe he had finally... "Give me that," Kristoff reached for the mouse and began scrolling through the file. They were still only on the basic landing page of the profile, which probably didn't look significant at all to Jackson, but it felt like a whole web was untangling before Kristoff's eyes.

"Uh, yeah." Jackson snickered. "This isn’t the first time I’ve hacked into the police department." It was probably one of the first things that he'd done when he got here. He had to admit that he wasn’t really a going straight kind of guy. Jackson scowled at Kristoff as he snatched the mouse. "What? Is he like your son or something?" He commented. Or maybe his brother? Nah. Kristoff was a blonde and that kid was black haired and barely five feet tall. But then again, his sister has been a ginger out of nowhere.