Half Life 2: Dominion

Linh is thin, almost frail, with long black hair that she ties back loosely, though strands constantly fall into her face. Her blue citizen jumpsuit is often rumpled and unkempt, suggesting a disinterest in appearances or daily routine. Her face is pale and drawn, her features marked by sleepless nights and years of silent grief. She keeps a small, worn photo hidden in her pocket—her twin brother's face barely visible through the faded creases.

Linh is broken but not erased. She speaks rarely, walks softly, and avoids attention. She offers no opinions, rarely engages with neighbors, and never complains, which makes her invisible to both citizens and Civil Protection alike. But inside, she carries a fierce loyalty and hope that haven’t faded with time. Her quiet demeanor hides a mind that constantly calculates possibilities, watching patrol patterns, memorizing schedules—subconsciously preparing, should she ever get a chance to act. Despite her pain, she has never blamed her brother, and she refuses to believe he gave up on her. That belief is her only rebellion.

Three years ago, Linh and her twin brother, Tien, were transferred from City 25 to City 23 during one of the Combine’s sweeping relocation efforts. At the checkpoint, a scanner flagged Tien for carrying contraband—an old, forbidden family heirloom tucked in the lining of his coat. Without ceremony, he was pulled from the line by Civil Protection and dragged toward the Nexus. Linh screamed until her voice gave out. She never saw him again. Since then, she’s kept to herself, refusing to believe the Combine’s official statement of "permanent relocation." She survives quietly, unremarkably, clinging to the one hope that keeps her breathing: the belief that Tien is alive—and trying to return to her.