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Meekly submit to an execution order
The man is surprised. "Really?" he says, "That was more of an ultimatum than an actual set of choices for you. Execution? Really?"
Your flesh shrugs. "I've been going through a lot lately," you admit, "If you humans think this is for the best, so be it.
"Well," he admits, "Actually what we thought was the best was you serving us a free labor for the rest of our lives. Executing you was... a means to get you to come to that conclusion."
"Yeah, well," you say, "I suppose I'm sort of calling your bluff."
"Fine." the man says darkly, he makes a phone call (a sure sign that he's definitely Gen X) and says into the phone, "It's playing hardball. Give it the stick."
All across the planet, at the center of each of your flesh cities, a massive fireball blooms into the air. Millions of tons of your biomass are instantly vaporized. Even more is irradiated and dies off within hours or days. This can only be the work of Australia's legendary nuclear arsenal.
"Nuclear weapons?" you say, which does not surprise the man in the least. "That's what you think my weakness is?"
"Well no," the man explains, "I mean, most things are weak to nuclear weapons, but that's not the weakness I was talking about. Since you're curious, my associates here will take you to have a look."
Two guards covered head to toe in military grade CBRN gear come in and escort you away. Some of the last resistance forces who fought against you wore this kind of gear. It was annoyingly effective at preventing you from consuming their flesh.
The guards lead you down a different corridor, deeper into the facility. Ahead, you can see a security door that is slightly ajar. It does not seem to be your destination.